


In Search of Clues

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-18
Updated: 2004-01-24
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A murder mystery that takes place a few months after 314.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian leaned against the balcony of Babylon, staring down at the swarm of sweaty bodies tangled together by the sound of a pulsating beat. It was hard to think as the thud of the bass throbbed in his ears, the feel of it weighing heavy on his chest but he knew that he couldn't stand the silence of the loft without Justin or the too-truthful lecture he knew he had coming at the diner. Debbie never let him get away with anything and he knew the minute she saw him, she'd open that big fuckin' mouth of hers. Besides, he might run into Michael and he no longer had the patience to stomach his worried puppy-eyed look, or the barrage of questions that would soon follow.

 

He had already endured enough drama for the day, courtesy of Justin. Justin had not taken the threatening ad lightly and had given him an earful. But then, Brian had thought, on occasion, that Justin had enough flair for melodrama to facilitate Hamlet's soliloquy. He figured if Justin hadn't become an artist, he might have ended up in show business. He had an uncanny knack for turning small molehills into gigantic volcanoes. Yes, Justin would make a fine Shakespearean actor.

So, why did Justin's words still haunt Brian? Why did he care so much what Justin thought? Why did he always feel a compulsory need to appease the blonde? Sure, Justin had no qualms about what Brian should or should not do. But, he always managed to open his mouth at precisely the right time to stick a knife in the spurs of Brian's thought process. Force him to realize another perspective other than his own. It was maddening.

 

Brian was already in a pissy mood when he walked into the loft earlier that evening. He had been working all day on an ad campaign for cat sweaters. He had no idea how the fuck he was going to market the little knitted atrocities. For one, he hated pussy. For two - well there wasn't a second reason. Hating pussy was enough.

 

Brian put his briefcase down on the couch, and began undoing his tie as he walked up the two steps to the bedroom. He changed into a dark pair of jeans and a white wife beater, and then made his way to the kitchen. He rummaged in the fridge, realized he wasn't hungry, and instead poured himself some whisky in a tumbler. Then, he headed for the computer.

Brian turned on his computer. There was no way he was going to spend the evening with pussy on his brain. Ten inches of cock should do the trick. Maybe Mr. Goodfuck had friends. He turned on the computer and scanned some of his favorite websites. But for some reason, tonight, he couldn't find anything that suited his tastes. It seemed, lately, that all of his tricks had one thing in common. They were all young, had blonde hair and blue eyes. The irony was not lost on Brian, though he made a mental note to start fucking darker, older guys. He got enough of Justin on a regular basis. The last thing he needed was a constant reminder that he had a non-defined unconventional boyfriend. His cock stirred. Where was the little twat anyway?

Brian took a long swig of the whisky and decided to check his email. There were a few forwarded Ebay auctions from Michael, the usual invites to sex parties, and one in particular that caught his attention. In the subject line it read, "No apologies? No regrets? We will see." Intrigued, Brian opened the email.

_  
Brian,_

_So, you want to be a superhero? Let's see if Rage can save Gayopolis a second time. Decipher the clues and no one dies. Fail and lose a friend. Your first c clue is in this week's "Pittsburgh Out." Good luck. You'll need it.  
_

Justin slid open the loft door, permeating the air with a crashing thud. Closing the door, he then walked over to Brian peering over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Justin asked.

 

"Do you have a copy of "Pittsburgh Out?"

 

"Yeah. I picked one up at the diner."

 

"Can I see it?"

 

"Since when did you start reading tabloids? It's hardly the New York Times."

 

"Since I got this strange email," Brian said. Justin pulled out the newspaper copy and handed it over to Brian. Brian stood up, looking through the rag, page by page, as he paced. Justin slipped into the seat and read the email.

 

"Shit," Justin said. "The person gave no indication where the clue would be. It could be anywhere in that paper."

Brian didn't answer. He had put the paper down on the kitchen island, reading it tediously. Justin walked over to Brian, and put his hand on Brian's shoulder.

 

"Let me help," Justin said.

Brian took the second half of the tabloid and handed it to Justin. "Read this half." Justin took the newspaper and sat down at the kitchen table.

An hour went by. Both, in silence, reading fervently, combing every sentence, every phrase, and every word. Justin scanned the personals, darkly. The absurdities of the ads were beginning to wear on his every nerve. It seemed that everyone in the "Men Seeking Men" section were looking for built queers with big cocks. He looked up at Brian. Definitely built. Definitely queer. Definitely nine inches. He looked Brian up and down, licking his lips eagerly. But the man was so engrossed in an article that Justin knew there was no chance in hell he was going to be doing any sort of "extra curricular activities" until the clue was found. Justin let out a heavy sigh.

"Find anything?" Brian asked, responding to the blonde's sigh.

 

"No," Justin answered. He pulled the newspaper in front of him and continued reading. Justin was almost finished with the "Intimate Seductions" section when he noticed an unusual advertisement in the lower right hand corner.

 

"Brian," he muttered, his face, twisted in shock. Brian, swung around, hearing the strangeness in Justin's voice. Without looking up, Justin pointed to the ad. Brian knelt down, wrapped his arms around the blonde, and read over his shoulder.

__  
Rage and JT ISO clues?  
Blondes, blondes everywhere.  
Which one will it be?  
Lots to choose from.  
Tomorrow, you will see.  
Good luck. You'll need it. 

Brian stood up quietly, put his hand to his face, and began to pace.

"What do you think it means? "

 

"It means I'm not going to be dying my hair anytime soon."

 

"Seriously, Brian. Someone we know could be in danger. I'm a blonde, my mom is a blonde, and Lindsay too."

 

"I know. You don't need to fucking remind me."

 

"I think we should go to the police," Justin said, firmly.

 

"The same police who wouldn't do shit for the Jason Kemp case, even after I handed over a condom of jizz? They didn't care about a dead queer in a dumpster. What makes you think they're going to care about living ones?"

Justin got up from the table and faced Brian. "Then we need to do something."

 

"I don't think my credit line can handle another gay crusade. I'm done being a super-hero. I'll leave the comic book crap to Mikey."

 

"So, you're just going to stand there and do nothing?" Justin queried, indignantly. "And what if one of our friends dies because you don't want to get involved? How will you feel having that on your conscience?"

 

When Justin left the loft in a huff, Brian was sure he would go to Debbie for advice from Horvath. Even though their "relationship" was on the rocks, Horvath did come by to see Debbie at least twice a week. He always hid his intentions by saying that the diner had thebest meatloaf in Pittsburgh. Not wearing blinders, Debbie knew that Horvath wouldn't go out of his way, on Liberty Avenue no less, just for meatloaf. He still had some unresolved feelings for the mouthy red-head, and she would wait patiently for him to sort it out. She had nothing to lose.

The thought of Debbie knowing about the ad made Brian's stomach queasy. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to be in his business. Or worse, worry. But he knew that Debbie would tell Michael. And if Michael knew then that meant Emmett knew, which meant that all of queer Pittsburgh knew.

So, he went to Babylon, a refuge in a way. If he did end up running into one of the boys, with all of their concerns and questions, at least he had an escape route. No one would go after him in the backroom. No one would question the fact that he was drowning himself in whiskey and fucking. Just a regular Wednesday night for Brian Kinney, asshole extraordinaire.

Brian couldn't think anymore. He needed to escape, to loose himself in something other than thought. He walked down to the bar, ordering two double shots of Jack Daniels. He drank each one in two gulps, one right after the other. Then he pulled out a tab of "E" from his front jean pocket. Placing the tab on his tongue, he went out onto the dance floor. Within minutes, a shirtless, dark haired man danced towards him. Grabbing the man by the waist, Brian grinded into him as he licked his neck. The man whispered into Brian's ear, and they headed to the backroom.

The shirtless man pushed Brian back against the wall in a dark corner. He knelt down, unbuttoning his pants. Brian let his head drop back and closed his eyes. The man pulled out Brian's cock and covered the head with his mouth, enveloping it like a velvet vice. He grabbed the man's dark hair in his hands, and imagined that it was blonde. His skin, creamy and light. His eyes, like oceans of pure blue. "Briiiiiaaaaaan." He could almost hear Justin calling out his name the way he did when Brian was deep inside him.

"Brian." The voice was getting louder. Brian opened his eyes and locked on the blonde man standing in front of him.

 

"Hello. Sunshine," Brian slurred, all smiles.

 

"Here." Justin handed Brian an envelope. The shirtless man kept his momentum.

 

"Give me a minute."

 

"I'll meet you at the bar." Justin turned and walked away. Brian plunged deeper and faster into the dark haired man's mouth until he came with a quiver. He buttoned up his pants and walked away. The man, still on his knees, shook his head as he watched Brian disappear into darkness.

Brian found Justin nervously leaning up against the bar."Let's go outside," he said, grabbing Brian's hand and leading him out into the darkened street.

 

"Open it," Justin said.

The white #10 envelope was typewritten to Daphne and Justin's address. It had no stamp or return address. Brian clumsily opened the letter. The message was pieced together from newspaper letters like a patchwork quilt.

_  
"Will it be you?_

_So many blondes, so little time._

_Good luck.  
You'll need it."_


	2. In Search of Clues

Lindsay was awakened by the piercing sound of the telephone in the mute darkness. Startled, she sat upright and turned on the lamp by the side of the bed. Melanie rolled over, squinting, from the sudden brightness. 

"Go back to bed. Let the answering machine get it," Melanie said, groggy. They looked at each other in the stirring silence waiting for another ring. It never came. 

"Must have been a wrong number," Lindsay mumbled as she stretched and yawned. She was used to waking up in the middle of the night. Even though Gus was two, he still had bouts of sleeplessness. "Since I'm up, I'll go check on the baby." 

Melanie grumbled sleepily, turned over and put her head between the pillows. Lindsay turned off the lamp and stumbled out of bed. There was a light knock on the bedroom door. Lindsay quickly slipped on her robe and quietly answered the door. Emmett stood in the hallway in a grey t-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants with the phone in his hand. He was still residing in the guest bedroom.

Emmett had told the girls that he was saving up money for an apartment. But the reality was that he was mourning the end of his relationship with Ted. Emmett still had a large hole where his heart used to be, and the wound was taking a considerable amount of time to heal. Emmett had more than loved Ted. He could not envision his future without him. 

Through the years with Ted by his side, he had been accustomed to the somewhat symbiotic friendship. And when they took their evolutionary course as lovers, that sense of the symbiosis grew. Sometimes, he couldn't clearly define where Ted's life ended and his own began. So, when Ted collapsed in a cesspool of addiction, it left Emmett in a disoriented state. 

He was somewhat aware that he should have left Ted to his own devices. Crystal meth was a powerful force like a black hole. It could suck you in and leave you with nothing but a void in its place. But his heart and the commitment to his friend, his lover, and in way, his lifeline had gotten the better of him. He feared that if it hadn't have been for an intervention from Brian, he too, would be in a rehab facility or something worse. But the dose of harsh truth in the center of the dance floor had been the right medicine. Emmett had remembered that his flame still burned bright and that nothing could ever take that away. Still, his sense of self had been tarnished, and he wasn't sure if he could trust his own instincts just yet. 

No, he couldn't face the idea of living alone. He still needed the false sense of security that came with living with the lesbians. The house smelled like freshly washed laundry and flowers. There was always food in the fridge and towels in the bathroom. Melanie and Lindsay had an open ear, and let him talk, whine and vent to his heart's desire. They sighed, laughed and cried in all the right places. It was the closest thing he had felt to being home, of belonging, in a long time. It was something that he was missing and couldn't seem to conjure up in himself. The hurt was still too strong and it cut too deep. He just needed a little more time. And a couple more fabulous outfits couldn't hurt either.

Emmett held the phone out to Lindsay. Lindsay closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry sweetie. I tried to answer the phone as fast as I could so that I wouldn’t wake you."

"It's OK, Em. I'm a light sleeper, since the baby."

"It's Brian. He says it's really important," Emmett said as he handed the phone to her. 

"Thanks," she said sweetly and took the phone. Emmett walked downstairs to get something to eat from the kitchen. Lindsay followed after him as she answered the phone. 

"Brian, do you have any idea what time it is?" she said with a hint of annoyance. When she reached the living room she sat down in the armchair next to the couch.

"Fuck the time. Did anything strange happen to you today?" 

"No, nothing out of the ordinary. I took Gus to the park. It was my day off."

"Did you get any strange emails or anything in the mail?"

"No, Brian. What's this all about?"

"Nothing, Linds. Go back to bed." Brian hung up. Lindsay stared at the phone, questionably.

Emmett strutted out from the kitchen with a plate of Oreo cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. 

"What was that all about?" he asked as sat down on the couch and put the plate and glass on the table. Emmett offered a cookie to Lindsay. She took it and started to nibble.

"I don't know," she said. "I think Brian's finally lost it. He asked if anything strange happened to me today."

"You don't think this has anything to do with that ad? Emmett asked.

"What ad?"

"I'm not one to gossip, but Michael said Justin went over to Debbie's tonight. He wanted her to ask Horvath for some advice on a threatening ad in "Pittsburgh Out". Emmett grabbed the glass and took a swig of the white liquid. "Michael said that Justin seemed really worried about it."

"I picked up a copy today. I think I still have it." Lindsay put the half eaten cookie back down on the plate and got up. She located Gus' diaper bag by the base of the stairs and began rummaging through it. "Here it is." She walked over to couch and sat next to Emmett. "Did Michael say where it was?" 

"Just past the "Intimate Seductions" section in the personals," Emmett said polishing off an Oreo and then draining the last of the milk. Lindsay opened the paper, flipping through it until she reached the personals. Emmett leaned in, reading over Lindsay's shoulder. He noticed the little ad in the lower right hand corner and pointed it out to Lindsay. They read in silence, then stared at each other, tensely.

"Michael will be pleased. His comic book was mentioned," Emmett said breaking the silence.

"Emmett!" Lindsay scolded. 

"Well, I don't understand what all the fuss is about. I admit it is a bit strange, but it’s nothing to get your titties all in a twist."

"I agree. Justin is pretty level-headed. It would take more than this ad to get him to the point of involving Debbie," Lindsay said, pensive.

"Well, didn't Brian ask about emails or mail?"

"Yes," she said still staring down at the ad. "I checked my email earlier. There wasn't anything suspicious. Just an email from Leda. She might be coming back into town next week."

"Just what I need. More lesbians," Emmett quipped. Lindsay let out a small laugh. "I didn't check the mail though," she said as she put the paper down on the coffee table and got up off the couch. Lindsay walked into the kitchen with Emmett trailing behind her. She flipped on the light, then searched through the piles of paperwork on the table. Lindsay spotted a pile of envelopes nearest to Melanie's laptop. She sorted through them haphazardly.

"Bill…," Lindsay stopped at a postcard and read it. "Zack O'toole's new play is at the Liberty Theatre" Emmett clapped his hands in delight as she passed the over the postcard. "More bills," she mumbled as she rifled through more envelopes. Suddenly, she stopped at a white #10 envelope. "What's this?" she asked as she turned the envelope over. "It has no return address."

Emmett leaned over to get a good look at the envelope. "It's only addressed to you. And typewritten. Someone went to a lot of trouble to stay anonymous." Emmett paused then smiled. "Ooooh. Maybe you have a secret admirer."

Lindsay looked over at Emmett quizzically. "It looks suspicious. Maybe I should take it to Brian."

"No. Just open it," Emmett persuaded.

Lindsay went to the drawer and pulled out a knife. She punctured the envelope, sliding the blade along its edge until it was ripped clean. Lindsay put the knife down on the kitchen table and slowly opened the folded letter.

 

"Oh my God," she breathed as she read the pasted cut-out letters, intently.

"Honey, what is it?"

Lindsay handed the letter to Emmett still in shock. He scanned the letter then let out a little yelp.

_  
Mothers are a fate worse than birth_

_Will it be you?_

_Another blonde on the hit list._

_Good luck. You're going to need it._


	3. In Search of Clues

Lindsay and Emmett drove in silence. The desire to chat had been squashed by the lingering anxiety that filled the small compartment of the car. In order to quell the growing desire to panic, Emmett stared out at the empty sidewalks. He was always amazed at how still the city was in the middle of the night, the streetlamps casting slick shadows on the pavement, like wading pools of silvery light. 

It hadn't taken much deliberation for the pair to decide to go to Brian's. Lindsay had argued that it was 1:47 a.m. and bad manners to knock on someone's door in the early hours of the morning. But Emmett had assured her that Brian would definitely be up, and awake too. 

"Maybe we should call first," Lindsay said, a little hesitant.

"Don't give him any reason to blow you off," Emmett protested. "We need an explanation now. That ad said something was going to happen to a blonde tomorrow."

"It already is tomorrow."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Emmett questioned, rhetorically.

Lindsay couldn't argue Emmett's logic, which disturbed her. She never thought she would be in a situation where Emmett's reasoning would surpass her own. She blamed it on the lack of sleep. 

Lindsay had gone upstairs to get dressed and realized that she would have to tell Melanie something. The truth was too complicated to explain in such a short amount of time. Plus, Lindsay didn't want to worry her. So, she woke Melanie and told her that Brian had a flat tire and needed a ride home. Melanie grumbled something derogatory about Brian, then fell back asleep. Lindsay ignored the comment and slipped on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She grabbed her pink checked jacket, a pair of gloves and hastily put them on as she walked through the hallway. Emmett was already waiting by the door, head-to-toe in black, as Lindsay came downstairs. She looked him up and down, then chuckled as she realized he had a ski mask rolled up on top of his head.

"What?" he asked.

"Aren't you a little...um....overly dressed?

"I've accessorized my outfit for our late night covert operation."

"We're not robbing a bank, Em."

"Do you have the envelope?" he asked, ignoring her comment.

"Shit! And I need my purse."

"You'll probably need your car keys too," Emmett said crossing his arms against his chest.

She nodded, then went back into the kitchen to retrieve the envelope. She grabbed her purse from the kitchen table, checked for her keys, then stuffed the envelope in it as she headed towards the door.

Lindsay tightly gripped the steering wheel as she maneuvered the vehicle down the quiet streets. She focused hard on the road, trying to manage the escalating fear bubbling inside of her. There were so many questions in her head bouncing like Bingo balls. They all needed answers, and the only one who could answer them was Brian. In all the years she had known Brian, she knew that he wasn't the kind of person to just give up information. He took a sort of delight in keeping the important things to himself. Perhaps it was a self-defense mechanism to never let anyone get too close or be too disappointed. But she wasn't sure if she had the will power or patience to play the game tonight. She was tired, cranky and her life had been threatened. She just wanted straight answers and knew she had to have some sort of plan to get past Brian's snarky front. To get him to the point where he would give the information with the minimum of bullshit.

She was heavy in thought, when she noticed a car behind them. It was hard to tell whether the car had just pulled up behind her or if it had been there the whole time. She had been too wrapped up in herself to pay attention. She shook her head and chalked it up to paranoia. 

The ten minute ride has seemed to take forever. When Lindsay finally parked across the street from Brian's building she let out a little sigh.

"How are we going to get into the building?" Lindsay asked.

"Easy. We're going to ring him," Emmett said confidently. 

"Then you do it. I'm not about to endure the wrath of Brian Kinney this early in the morning."

"Fine," he said getting out of the car and closing the door. "But you owe me." Lindsay grabbed her purse and followed Emmett. 

Another car parked behind Lindsay's vehicle in the barren neighborhood. The dark haired man in the driver's seat watched as the pair ventured across the street and stopped in front of the building. 

Lindsay and Emmett looked at each other warily, then stared at the intercom glaring at them. "Well, here goes nothing," Emmett sighed as he pushed the square white button and waited. Nobody answered. Emmett pushed it again, harder this time. Lindsay was so engrossed in the process she didn't realize the black gloved hand coming down on her shoulder. She turned abruptly, bumping into Emmett, as she let out a high pitched scream. Emmett jumped, putting his hands against the intercom for support. 

"Holy shit, Michael! Emmett wailed.

"You should know better than to sneak up on people!" Lindsay scolded putting her hand on her chest. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you saw me behind you when I crossed the street."

"Nope. I didn't see you," Lindsay said, and smiled nervously.

"What are you doing out so late on a work night?" Emmett asked, peeling himself off the intercom.

"Looking for fucking Justin." Mikey said, darkly, as he twisted his face into a scowl. "His mother is freaking out. She can be very excitable for a WASP."

"Why? What happened?" Lindsay asked.

"My mom told her about Justin's visit and the ad in "Pittsburgh Out." I wish she'd just mind her own business," Mikey whined.

"Debbie has never been about subtle or subdued. But I think this time her worries are valid" Lindsay stated.

"Why? What's going on?" 

"Jennifer didn't by chance get a letter in the mail today?" Emmett asked, dreading the answer.

"Yeah. How did you know about that?"

Lindsay pulled the #10 envelope out of her purse. "I got one too." she stated, waving it at Mikey.

"Shit!" Mikey exclaimed. "Ma mentioned that Jennifer got an unmarked letter. No returnaddress, no stamp. Just the Taylor's address typewritten on the envelope."

"The letters cut out from newspaper clippings?" Emmett more stated than asked.

"Double shit! What the hell is going on?"

"We don't know. We're here to talk to Brian." Lindsay said.

"Well, he wasn't at Woody's or Babylon. So, he should be home and hopefully with Justin. I've been all over this fucking city."

"I buzzed the intercom and no one's answered." Emmett said.

"There's only one way to find out if he's really here or not," 

"How?" asked Lindsay.

Mikey pulled a set of keys out of his jacket pocket. He took one from the group and held it out. "With my key."

"Well don't just stand there, let us in." Emmett said excitedly.

The dark haired man in the car watched the trio enter the building. He took his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial.

"What's going on?" The voice said.

"That Mikey is such a tool. This is too easy." said the dark haired   
man.

"Good, then proceed as planned" the voice said. 

The dark haired man hung up the phone and dropped it on the passenger side seat. He turned on the car and slipped quietly away down the street.


	4. In Search of Clues

Justin dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket as he bounced on the balls of his feet. The anticipatory tension was gaining. He felt a compulsory obsession to do anything other than stand there watching Brian talk to Lindsay on the cell phone. So, he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, lit it up, and inhaled deeply. The slight rush of toxins to his lungs mellowed his mood. He looked up and blew smoke rings into the blackened sky. 

“Nothing, Linds. Go back to bed,” Brian said, as he hung up the cell and handed it to Justin. 

“Well?” Justin asked, anxiously as he took the phone and stuck it in his pocket.

“You heard the conversation. Nothing happened.” 

“Something doesn’t feel right, Justin said as he traipsed. “The ad implied that there were many blondes to choose from. I’m not the only blonde you know.” He took another hit and then passed off the cigarette to Brian. 

Brian took the cigarette into his thumb and forefinger and inhaled. “You’re the only blonde I’m fucking on a regular basis,” he said, as he grabbed Justin, and wrapped his arms around him from behind. “Someone is playing a sick joke on us. Stop worrying about it.”

Justin grabbed the cigarette from Brian’s dangling hand, took one last drag, dropped it, and stamped it out with his shoe. “I should call my mom.”

Brian pressed closer into Justin and whispered into his ear, “Call her in the morning,” His hands roamed into the younger man’s jacket, then trailed down his warm chest. “I missed you.”

Justin laughed, “What are you on?”

“The usual”

“You get so sappy when you take “E”.” Justin turned around letting his hands drop on to Brian’s ass.

“Let’s go home so that I can fuck you into tomorrow.”

 

“All that work to free the streets of Gayopolis and you want to fuck in your own bed? I’m disappointed in you.”

Brian didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed Justin’s face and kissed him hard. He let go just as quickly and strutted away. Justin stood frozen and perplexed. 

After a few paces, Brian turned around and slowly walked backwards holding out his hands. “Are you coming or going?” 

Justin grinned as he started toward Brian. “I’m coming then going,” he said.

Brian stopped to let the blonde catch up, until they faced each other. “You’re coming than staying.” 

Justin laughed at their nostalgic moment. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Remember what?” the brunette asked, smiling coyly.

“Nothing,” Justin said, then leaned up and kissed Brian, tenderly.

Justin barely had enough time to slide the loft door closed before he was slammed against it. Brian kissed him lustfully, probing his tongue deep inside the younger man’s mouth as he peeled away at the layers of Justin’s clothing. Justin slid his hands under the brunette’s shirt clawing at Brian with urgency. 

“Fuck me now!” Justin whispered.

“All good things come to those who wait.”

“I think I’ve waited long enough,” Justin said as he pushed Brian backward. “In the bedroom. Now!”

Brian’s eyes flashed a hint of surprise, but he dutifully turned himself around and marched as Justin pushed him up the bedroom steps. Justin pulled off Brian’s shirt, laid him on the bed, and then crawled on top of him. Brian started to say something. But Justin put his finger to his lips. “Shhh. No talking.”

Brian closed his eyes and waited. The half-dressed blonde kissed the older man’s forehead, then trailed kisses down his nose, brushed lightly past his lips, to his neck. He lingered there awhile, and then kissed his way down to Brian’s stomach. Justin unbuttoned Brian’s jeans, cupping the brunette’s ass as he licked and flicked at Brian’s swelling cock through his underwear. Brian slid his hands into Justin’s hair, pulling and tangling it between his fingers. Justin pulled off Brian’s jeans then sat up and moved his body to kiss the brunette. Their mouths meshed together perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle. 

Suddenly, the loft reverberated with the sound of fists on metal. Justin jumped off Brian quickly, and nervously scanned the room. Brian sat up and kissed Justin’s shoulder. 

“It’s just someone at the door.”

“Yeah. Of course” Justin said, trying to seem nonchalant. He looked over at the wind- up alarm clock. “Don’t tell me. You have a 2:37 a.m. trick.”

Brian chuckled. “No, but at least I’m not answering the door naked.” The pounding started again. 

Justin fell back against the bed, frustrated. “Why?”

Brian climbed out of bed to open the door, but barely made it across the loft before it slid open. He stopped and smiled, devilishly. “Well if it isn’t the queer three stooges. Nelly, Mo, and Lindsay, you can be Jack. Since you’re handy with the power tools.”

“Those are the Pep Boys. And for the record, it’s Manny, Mo, and Jack.” Michael quipped and walked in. 

“Whatever.” Brian focused his attention on Emmett. “Nice outfit, Em. Are we robbing a bank?” 

Emmett took a few steps into the loft, crossed his arms, and turned his nose up in defiance. Lindsay sat down on a bar stool and put her purse on the kitchen table. Mikey noticed that Justin’s clothes were sprawled on the floor and picked them up. 

“What are you doing here?” Brian said.

Lindsay pulled the letter from her purse and held it in the air. “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?”

Brian walked over to Lindsay and leaned against the island across from her. He took the envelope and carefully unfolded the letter, then scanned it quietly, as he bit his lip.

“Justin, you’re going to want to come down and see this.”

Justin stumbled into the loft’s living area, still half-dressed. He squinted from the brightness of the light, as he tousled his hair. 

“Hey guys” he mumbled and yawned. 

Mikey threw the pile of clothes at Justin. “I think you forgot these,” he said chuckling. 

Justin laughed, catching the ball of cloth, and then tossing it on the couch. “What’s going on?”

Brian handed him the letter, then disappeared into the bedroom. Crossing his arms, Emmett positioned himself against a small piece of wall near the door while Justin scanned the paper. Brian came back into the living area wearing a pair of light blue jeans. He sat on the back end of the couch, and locked eyes with Justin.

“Go ahead. Say it.” Brian dared him.

“I told you so,” Justin said. Emmett laughed. 

“Let me read it,” Mikey said, oozing worry from every word. Justin handed Mikey the letter. As he read it, his puppy dog eyes widened. “What the fuck is going on?” 

“I don’t know,” Brian said and rubbed his face.

“Only a few people know you said that.”

“I know,” Brian agreed.

“What are you talking about?” Lindsay asked.

“The line about a mother being a fate worse than death. There were only four of us around when Brian said it,” Justin explained.

“It’s almost a direct quote,” Mikey added.

Emmett turned down the corners of his mouth. “Well, who was there? Maybe it will give us a clue about who’s behind this.”

“It was me, Brian, Justin….”

“……and Hunter,” Brian finished Michael’s sentence, looking up. Everyone stared at Mikey suspiciously.

“What?” he stammered. “Oh no….you don’t think that Hunter…..”

Lindsay said what everyone was thinking. “He’s a nice kid. But he seems a little…um…precocious,” she tried to say delicately. “Maybe he’s trying to get attention.”

“He did have a crush on Brian.” Justin added.

“Who doesn’t?” Brian quipped.

“Me,” Emmett said, indignantly.

 

“Hunter would make sense. You know how jealous he is of me because Brian’s my boyfriend.” Justin glanced over at Brian, who scowled at the word boyfriend, but didn’t protest. “And I got a letter that’s almost identical to Lindsay’s.”

“Pray he isn’t behind this little prank if he wants his balls to drop.” Brian growled. “Let’s pay a visit to the little foundling,”

“No way!” Mikey said protectively. “Hunter has been doing really well lately. I doubt he’s behind this.”

“I agree with Mikey.” Emmett said. “The kid is a cunning little twat. But he’s no Dahmer.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lindsay said.

“People are being threatened, Lindsay. This isn’t a joke.” Emmett retorted.

“Let’s not queen out just yet.” Brian said. “We’ll have plenty of other opportunities to panic.”

“Yeah. Like when you’ve realized you’ve fucked everyone in this burgh. You’ll have to start recruiting the straight ones.”

“That’s when I’ll know it’s time to move. I think I hear New York calling my name.”

“Where’s the other note?” Emmett asked ignoring the banter.

Brian walked over to his computer desk, grabbed the second envelope and handed it to Emmett. Emmett read it, shook his head despairingly, and passed it to Mikey.

“This is getting really creepy.” Mike said after he read it, then passed it to Lindsay. She scanned the second letter, then dropped both of the envelopes on the kitchen island.

“I’m worried Brian. This guy sounds really serious.” Lindsay said.

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do about it? I’m not a fucking detective. But if he needs a good ad campaign….”

“We have to figure out who this guy is,” Justin declared emphatically as he cut off Brian. “This guy needs to be stopped before anyone gets hurt. I’m one of the blonde’s on the hit list. My life could be in danger. And Lindsay’s too.”

“I know, Justin. I haven’t forgotten.”

“What makes you think it’s a guy?” Lindsay asked. 

“Consider Brian’s history.” Emmett stated. “This could be some cock-hungry queen who got denied nine inches. Queers can be vicious.”

“I’m good. But not worth killing over,” Brian quipped. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“I don’t know.” Justin said. “You’ve slowed down a lot lately. You’re down to like one trick a day.” 

Brian rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know you were counting.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re getting off track here,” Lindsay said. “We have to figure out who else got letters and see if there are any other clues.”

“Well, who else do we know who’s blonde?” Emmett asked.

“Damn it!” Mikey exclaimed.

“What?” Justin asked.

“Your mom. She got a letter.” 

“Fuck, Mikey, why didn’t you say something earlier!” Justin yelled as he scrambled past the couch to grab the phone on the computer table.

“I ran into Emmett and Lindsay outside and spaced it. I’m so sorry.”

Justin hastily dialed Jennifer’s phone number. There was an answer on the first ring. “Mom. Are you ok?” 

The others watched Justin intently. Brian walked over to the arm of the couch and sat down. He knew he didn’t need to protect the blonde anymore. But it eased his mind a little to be closer; just in case. 

“Lindsay and I both got letters too.” Justin paced, glancing over at Brian every now and then. “I know. I know. But don’t worry. We’re trying to figure it out right now.”

Emmett sighed loudly. “I can’t stand this. The suspense is killing me. I need a drink.” 

“I’m starting to feel like a sitting duck,” Lindsay added.

Mikey went to the fridge and pulled out three beers. He handed one each to Emmett and Lindsay.

“Horvath already knows. There’s nothing he can do until someone is harmed. Until then, they’re only threats,” Justin told his mother.

Emmett took the beer, opened it quickly, and downed half of it in one long drink. Then he leaned his body against the island. Mikey took the stool next to Lindsay and moved it to get a better view of Justin, then sat down. 

“Can you read the letter to me, word for word? Hold on let me get something to write with.” Justin sat down at the computer table and grabbed a pen and a notepad. Brian stood up and wrapped his arms around Justin, looking over the blonde’s shoulder. 

“OK. Ready.”

Lindsay grabbed Emmett’s hand, anxiously. He kissed it. “It’s going to be all right,” he said trying to be comforting. She smiled weakly. “I’m scared. Not for me. But for Melanie and my son. I don’t know what Gus would do without me.”

“Stop talking like that,” Mikey whined. “We’re going to figure this out. And catch the bastard before anyone gets hurt.”

Brian read each word as Justin slowly scrawled his mother’s note on the paper. When the last word was finished, he kissed Justin on the temple, stood up, and bit his fingernail as he slowly paced the length of the wood floor.

“Thanks mom.” Justin said, spooked. “I’ll let you know if we hear anything. OK. I will. I love you too. Bye.” He hung up and put his head in his hands. “Mom sends her love, Brian.”

Brian laughed sarcastically and kept on pacing. With the weight of the moment, the well intentioned sentiment seemed trivial.

 

“What does it say?” Lindsay asked.

Brian turned to the group and recited the next clue, his partial words coming back to haunt him once again.

_  
“It won’t just be a heart that ends up in a dumpster._

_Will it be you?_

_Blonder days bring bloody tomorrows._

_Good luck, you’re going to need it.”_


	5. In Search of Clues

The Liberty Diner was full of pandemonium despite the waning hours of morning. There was something about the cacophonous mixture of plates clinking, the crackling of late night conversation, and the comforting smell of greasy food, which eased the groups’ collective nerves. Somehow amid the bustling chaos, they felt safe. The loft had taken an eerie persona after Brian read the last clue. The air became thick and stuffy. The tension rising above their heads like black smoke. So the quintet decided to get something to eat in hopes of easing their troubled minds and hopefully gain some perspective on the leery situation.

Lindsay and Emmett slipped into one side of the booth. She put her head on Emmett’s shoulder, while he wrapped his arm around her. Brian, Justin and Mikey squeezed into the other side facing the door. Nobody said anything for awhile, each pensive, glancing in various directions.

“It’s official. Someone is going to die.” Emmett said, melodramatically, breaking the silence.

“Would you shut the fuck up,” Brian sneered. “No one is going to die. Let’s all calm down and figure this out.”

“We’re totally fucked,” Mikey surmised. 

Brian rubbed his face. “And not in a life affirming way.”

“I’m too tired to think anymore.” Lindsay said, yawning. “I need some sleep.”

Kiki, the waitress, (formally Kenny, the waiter), came by to take their orders, but nobody had an appetite except Justin. He ordered a side of fries. 

“So, what do you want to do?” Emmett asked.

Brian’s patience became thinner. His growing sobriety had finally taken effect. "Look, I have to be up in..." He grabbed Justin's arm and looked down at his watch. "...... almost four hours. I just got my job back, my furniture back. Hell, my life back. And I'm not going to fuck it all just because you jack offs can't figure out what the hell you want to do."

“Calm down,” Justin said, “We’re all a little cranky right now.”

“Some more than others,” Mikey mumbled glancing toward Brian.

“Yeah. Well, unlike you, I can’t just roll out of bed and slump off to my cushy comic book store. I have to look good. I have to be brilliant.”

“You’re being a drama queen,” Lindsay said. 

“I think I’m rubbing off on you,” Justin laughed, and poked Brian in the side. Brian glared at him, relentlessly. Justin smiled back sweetly, batting his eyes. 

“Do you think every blond we know got letters?” Emmett asked.

“Maybe we should make a list and contact everyone,” Justin suggested.

“We know way too many blonds,” Brian countered. “What are going to do? Call everyone we know? Knock on everyone’s door? “Excuse me, but there’s a potential killer on the loose. Did you happen to get a threatening letter today?” There’s just not enough time. We have to work with what we have. And do it fast.”

“Then, let’s go over the clues we have.” Mikey suggested. 

“My letter didn’t have much in it,” Justin said, despairingly. 

“I brought both letters and the piece of paper with your mom’s note on it,” Lindsay said. 

She pulled them out of her purse, put them down on the table, then nuzzled herself back into Emmett’s shoulder. Justin unfolded the first envelope, laid it down on the table, then read it.

_  
"Will it be you?_

_So many blondes, so little time._

_Good luck. You'll need it."_

“It’s pretty straight forward.” Brian said. “Like a primer for the other clues.”

“Almost like you were meant to get yours before anyone else.” Mikey added.

“You’re the closest blond to Brian. So it would make sense that you would get the first clue,” Emmett explained.

“I was almost expecting it,” Justin said.

“Exactly,” Emmett continued. “So, if you’re expecting it, then there’s no surprise factor.”

“Which means there wouldn’t be any information in the clue.” Mikey added. “It’s like a decoy to throw you off.” 

“Or to get you to call Lindsay,” Emmett said, ominously. Brian and Justin watched the pair banter back and forth like a tennis match.

“Of course!” Mikey exclaimed. “Whoever is behind this knew that you would call Lindsay when you found out about Justin’s letter. 

“Someone is taking advantage of your short list of emotional ties,” Emmett proclaimed.

“What are you? The queer Hardy Boys?” Brian quipped. 

“They have a point,” Justin said. “You called Lindsay right away outside of Babylon.”

“I know you too well Brian. I knew something was up.” Lindsay commented.

“I coaxed her into coming to find you after we realized what was going on,” Emmett added. 

“And we are all so grateful for that,” Brian said, sarcastically as he cocked his head and grinned.

Kiki returned with the fries. Justin thanked her, but then slid them to the middle of the table. There was now a giant knot where his stomach used to be. Everything seemed to be coming together. They were so close. “Whoever this person is knows that Emmett would persuade Lindsay to see Brian.”

“What are you trying to say?” Brian asked.

“This person could be one of us. We’re the only ones who would know your thought process that well.”

“It’s probably Melanie. I’ve always suspected she was stark raving mad,” Brian jeered.

“Oh shut up Brian!” Lindsay scolded. “There’s no way she could do this and you know it. She’s too pregnant for one.”

“Exactly. Emotionally imbalanced.” Brian countered. Lindsay rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms. 

“It’s not Melanie,” Emmett said. “She’s the type of person that would run you over with her car. Or sneak up on you in the middle of the night and cut your dick off.”

“Thanks for the visual,” Brian said.

“It’s true.” Justin agreed. “She’s too straightforward to fuck around with letters and emails.” He paused. “I hate to say it, but what about Ted?”

“No way! Ted would never do anything like that!” Mikey said, defensively.

“Besides, Ted is in rehab,” Emmett reminded everyone. “He’s got enough demons of his own to deal with.”

“Oh really?” Brian said, smiling and staring at the door. 

Justin looked up noticing the change in Brian’s voice. “I don’t think Ted is in rehab anymore.”

“Why do you say that?” Emmett asked.

Mikey looked up. “Because he just walked in the front door.”

Emmett swung around like his head was on a crane. “Oh my gawd.” He looked over at the blond standing next to Ted. “Is that who I think it is?” 

Lindsay turned around to see what all the commotion was about. “It can’t be.”

Brian laughed, “It is.”

Ted stood near the door awkwardly, clutching Blake’s hand. The smell of the diner reminded him of what seemed another life. When his friends were his family. When he and Emmett were happy together. Before he spiraled down in the black mire of drug addiction. Before he learned what self-loathing truly was. Yes, those were happier days, even though he didn’t understand how fleeting it all would seem later. Life was fragile that way. Any thing could set off a course of disaster like falling dominoes. One day you’re eating breakfast with you best friend and lover. And the next you’re puking your guts out over the porcelain God from withdrawal. Now, he felt vulnerable, awkward, like a new born baby. It’s soft pink skin sensitive to the abrasiveness of real life. 

Blake had spotted Ted at the rehab center. It was an ironic moment that had frightened Ted down to the bone. How had he gotten there? Only a year before, he had asked Blake to quit his crystal meth habit. To essentially choose their relationship over drugs. But Blake chose the drug, much like Ted chose crystal meth over Emmett. It was a weird twist of fate running into the blond. His blues eyes still sparkled with an incandescence that didn’t reflect the truisms of rehab or drug addiction. Blake always had a naiveté, a hopeless sense of optimism, which surrounded him like a glowing aura. 

Ted, mistakenly, assumed that Blake was there like he was to sober up. But that wasn’t the case. Blake was a counselor now. After cleaning up, he decided that he would use his experience as a tool to help others. He, of all people, knew what it was like to be addicted to something so powerful that it could ruin your very being. 

When Blake spotted Ted, he was hit with a wave of unresolved emotions. It was like a ghost had entered the room. Blake has spent many long nights during his recovery thinking about Ted, wondering what could’ve been. Many times he had picked up the phone to apologize. He wrote dozens of letters. But he never managed to summon up the courage to make amends. Besides, what could he possibly say that would lessen the pain that he had brought about? 

Instead he pushed the feelings down and moved on. But now the ghost stood in front of him. And the feelings hadn’t really gone away. Blake kept his distance at first. He was careful to keep the counselor/client relationship intact for as long as possible. But Ted clung to Blake like a lifeline. And as they began to be comfortable with one another the boundaries faded. They would spend hours talking about their addictions, their fuck-ups, their lost loves. Ted spoke prolifically about Emmett. He felt ashamed, full of regret and never expected Emmett to forgive him. But Blake advised never to give up hope. 

Blake certainly hadn’t. Those long nights talking to Ted had stirred up old feeling of desire. He would watch Ted’s lips as he talked wishing that he could kiss them. Then one night he did. Ted was taken back by the gesture and Blake had thought he’d made a wrong move. He apologized profusely and tried to leave. But Ted took his hand and asked him to stay. They had been together ever since.

Ted shook a little and grabbed Blake’s hand tighter. The diner had a way of bristling his nerves. “Maybe we should go. It’s late. We can try this another time.”

“No,” Blake said, quietly. “You can do this. We went to Woody’s and Babylon. This is your last stop. It’s time to get your life back.”

Ted searched the room and noticed the booth filled with all of his former friends. “Should we go over?”

“C’mon.” Blake coaxed, smiling.

“Here goes nothing.” Ted sighed, then walked to the table with Blake in tow. They stood there a moment saying nothing.

Mikey was the first to speak. “Hi Ted. It’s good to see you.” He stood up and gave him a hug.

“It’s good to see you too,” Ted said, as he let go of Blake’s hand and hugged Mikey tightly. It felt good to feel something familiar. Something real. Maybe he would be able to get his life back. 

“How are you doing?” Mikey asked. 

“I’m doing as good as expected.” Emmett stared down at the table and studied the grooves in his butter knife.

“Ted Schmidt. You’re back from the dead. You give the “Crystal Dick Award” a whole new meaning,” quipped Brian.

“Brian Kinney. Still an asshole. I’m glad to see some things don’t change.” Justin laughed. 

“Sit down with us, Ted.” Lindsay offered.

“No, no it’s ok. I don’t want to impose.”

“We’re still your friends. You’re not imposing.” Lindsay said.

“Yes. Please sit,” Emmett said, trying to hold back the tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes. “There should be more than enough room since I’m leaving.”

He nudged Lindsay to move out of the booth. She stood up. Then Emmett slid out of the seat. He locked eyes with Ted for a second. “You’re looking good, Teddy. I’m proud of you. I’m glad you’ve found a way to move on.” Emmett glared at Blake, then spun around on his heels and tried his best to look dignified as he walked out the door. 

The cold air seemed to hit him like a blow to the face. His eyes stung as the tears began to roll down his checks. He had no idea where to go, so he just kept walking. The night’s drama had escalated to a theatrical peak worthy of an opera. All he needed now was some sort of dramatic ending. Maybe they’d find him laying face down on the cold streets drowned in a pool of his own tears.

“Emmett!” He heard his name being called by someone who sounded like they were trying to catch up with him. He glanced over, then quickened his pace.

“Go away Brian. I don’t need any of your shit right now,” Emmett sniffed as he tried to wipe away the tears with the back of his hand.

“At least let me give you a ride home.”

“I’ll walk. Thank you.” he said, haughtily.

“Do you want a cigarette?” Brian asked as he kept stride with Emmett.

“No thanks.”

“How about a drink?”

Emmett stopped abruptly and turned towards Brian. “What I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone!”

“I can’t do that. I can’t let you walk away with your heart broken,” Brian said lifting Emmett’s chin up, and forcing eye contact. “He’s not worth it.”

“He was my best friend. My lover. My life. I can’t just close down and be a heartless shit.”

“Try harder. And for fuck’s sake don’t let him see you cry. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“You don’t understand!” Emmett wailed, as he batted Brian’s hand away. “What if Justin left you for something he though was better? Something he thought he couldn’t live without. What if he came around flaunting someone else in your face?” Emmett realized the irony of his words too late. Brian flinched. Emmett thought he saw a wave of hurt wash over his hazel eyes.

“He did,” Brian stated and bit his lip.

Emmett grabbed Brian’s hand and put it over his chest. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t apologize for the truth.”

“No apologies, no regrets?” Emmett asked. Brian didn’t answer. He simply smiled, wryly. “We have more in common than I thought.”

“Yeah. We’re both tall,” Brian said. Emmett laughed. Brian wrapped his arm around Emmett. “Let me take you home.” The duo turned around and started back toward the diner.

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“Could I sleep at the loft tonight?”

Brian let go of Emmett. “What? Like a threesome?”

“Ew. No! I was thinking more along the lines of safety in numbers.”

Brian laughed. “You can sleep over. On the couch.”

Justin, Mikey and Lindsay were standing outside the diner when they turned the corner. 

“Ted left after you ran out,” Mikey said. 

“Are you all right?” Lindsay asked.

“I’m fine,” Emmett said. “It was a little overwhelming to see him again. I wasn’t expecting to see Blake.”

 

Lindsay hugged him tightly. “I know sweetie. It was shock for all of us. I can only imagine how it felt for you.” She let go of him and kissed him on the cheek.

“At least we know we can rule out Ted.” Mikey stated. “Did you see how shaky he was?”

“He reminded me of how I felt after the bashing,” Justin said. Brian put his arm around Justin instinctively.

 

“So, what now?” Emmett asked. 

“It’s almost 4:30 now. I think we should get a couple hours of sleep, then re-group in the morning,” Mikey said. “How about the loft around 8:00?” Everyone complied.

“Oh by the way, Emmett is sleeping with us tonight,” Brian told Justin.

“Like a threesome?”

“You’ve got him trained,” Emmett laughed.

“Great minds think alike.”


	6. In Search of Clues

Debbie sat at the dining room table with her head propped up against her hand. She was half-amused by Justin, who had not stopped talking for the last five minutes. His words were taut, his eyes wide, his face flushed. He reminded her of a comic book character the way he enunciated every word precisely and threw his hands wildly around. 

What was it about all the gay men she knew? They all had a penchant for drama in its various forms. And sometimes the uphill battle of emotions drained her of resolve and replaced the empty spot with indifference. Like now, for instance, she watched Justin's rapid lip movements without registering a word. She was aware of the syllables and the vibrations floating into the small space of her kitchen, but for what he was referring to she did not know. Instead she focused on his creamy white complexion, wanting to pinch those cute little cheeks of his (and not the ones on his face). 

"Are you listening to me, Debbie?" Justin asked interrupting her deliberation.

"Of course, I'm listening, honey. Brian got a threatening email. So what? I'm surprised it's taken this long for him to get hate mail considering he's fucked most of Pittsburgh."

"For once this has nothing to do with his sex life. And it wasn't just an email. Look!" he said forcefully as he took the newspaper out of his art bag and slapped it down on the table.

"It's the "Pittsburgh Out," Debbie said, confused. Justin rolled his eyes at her, then flipped to the end of the personals. He pointed to the small ad at the bottom right hand corner. She scanned it slowly as she chomped on her gum.

"Like I said before, Brian fucked the wrong guy and now he's trying to get even," Debbie explained. Justin leaned back in this chair despairingly, noticing the little white dots of stucco on the ceiling. 

"Where's Vic?" he asked. 

"He's upstairs." She said, then hollered to Vic, loudly.

"Christ Almighty. Who died?" Vic grumbled as he started down the stairs.

"Well, according to this, a blond that Brian knows."

"God help us," Vic said. "All of Liberty Ave. will be on the hit list."

"Seriously," Justin lamented, as he moved his chair forward and stuck his head in his hands. "Would both you quit the comedy routine and give this grave matter the attention it deserves." Deb glanced at Vic and both tried not to chuckle. 

"Is that how they taught you talk at that fancy art school of yours?"

"This isn't funny. I'm a blond, my mom, Lindsay, even you." He said pointing to Debbie. 

"I am not!" she declared. 

"C'mon, Debbie, it's no secret that you wear a wig."

"I was hoping you'd forget." she mumbled, self-consciously arranging her "hair".

"There's no time for formalities now. We all could be dead by tomorrow!"

"Don't be a queen, Justin. This seems like a harmless prank," Vic said and sat down across from Debbie at the table. "Brian has been known to get under a few people's skins."

"Including your own," Debbie pointed out to Justin.

"Maybe if you could speak to Horvath for me to see what he thinks," Justin said, flashing Debbie a winning smile and batting his eyes

"Sorry, Sunshine. My big mouth has gotten me in enough trouble. Especially with Horvath," Debbie said. 

Justin grumbled under his breath, "You are so maddening!" He stood up and headed for the door.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" Debbie scowled.

"Home," Justin said, frustrated. "Where I can be ignored in peace!" And with that he slammed the door.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Two hours later the doorbell rang. Vic peeked through the curtained window and grinned, sarcastically. 

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal son," he said after he opened the door.

"Hi Vic, Where's Debbie?" Justin asked as he walked in.

"I'm right here, Sunshine," she hollered, poking her head out from the kitchen. I'm just finishing up the vegetarian lasagna for the girls."

"You're the only person I know who cooks at all hours of the night," he said, then sat himself down in a chair. Vic sat next to him.

"Well, the girls work so much. And with Melanie being pregnant with my grandbaby, I thought I'd help them out a little," she said as she put the pan of noodles and cheese in the oven. "Lord knows she needs her rest." She took off her apron and sat down in a chair. "So, what's going on? Have you come entertain us with more of your drama queen antics." Vic chuckled.

Justin ignored the glib remark and pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. "I got this in the mail today," Justin he said as he handed the letter to Debbie.

She took the piece of paper from out of the envelope and read the little pieces of cut out newspaper. "Holy shit! Are you OK? Are you hurt?" she asked as she grabbed his hand, maternally. Vic slid the letter from the table and began to read it.

"I'm fine, Deb," he said and pulled his hand away. "It's just a piece of paper."

"I'm jealous. You have your very own stalker." Vic joked and handed the letter back to Justin. He shook his head and stuck it back into his pocket.

"This is fucking serious, Vic. Don't make jokes during a time like this." Debbie scolded.

"You're not really taking this seriously?" he asked, indignantly.

"Of course I am. I'm going to call Horvath right now." She stood up and walked over to the phone, then dialed. "Detective Horvath, please." She waited, impatiently, twirling the phone cord in her hand. "It's Debbie. Justin needs to talk to you. And don't beat around the bush. Give it to him straight." She shoved the phone at Justin, nearly knocking him over, as he tried to stand up and walk to the phone. "Here you go, honey. Tell him everything." 

Justin explained the situation to Horvath in great detail as he paced in a small portion of the kitchen. Debbie stood next to the table her hand on her hip, waiting impatiently. 

"Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do. They're threats and technically we can't investigate until some one is actually harmed," Horvath said, grimly.

"So, what the hell am I supposed to do?" Justin asked as the frustration rose in his voice.

"Watch your back, son. And pray nothing happens." Justin said goodbye then hung up the phone. He turned and saw Debbie staring at him. 

"He can't do anything. It's only a threat."

"What do you mean?" Debbie hollered, menacingly poking her taloned finger at the phone. "Get that prick back on the line! I'm going to tear him a new asshole!" 

"Calm down, sis." Vic said. "You're taking this too personally."

"I am not taking it personally. He never has the balls to stand up for anything," she yelled, putting both hands on her hips.

"Like you for instance?" Vic said. "Not everyone can wear their conscious on their sleeve."

"The world would be a better place if people could just learn to stand up for what they believed in."

"You're just mad because he hasn't asked you back out yet."

"It has nothing to do with that," she said embarrassed and absent-mindedly shifted her shirt over butt.

"I've got to go." Justin said a matter-of-factly and started for the door again.

"Where the hell are you going this time?"

"I'm going to look for Brian."

"Try the back room of Babylon," Vic quipped and laughed. But it wasn't funny to Justin, because that's exactly where he was heading.

 

* * * * * * 

 

"I can't believe no one is going to do anything. After what all that these kids have been through," Debbie moaned, shaking her head. She sat herself down in a chair and leaned against the table. 

"There's nothing you can do but wait it out."

"Bullshit. I'm going to figure out who the hell is up to this even if it kills me."

"Sis, I'm warning you - leave it alone. Let them figure it out on their own." 

Debbie ignored Vic and walked to the phone and grabbed it. Not knowing who else to call, she dialed Jennifer's number. Vic sighed and shook his head, knowing his sister was being her obstinate, unyielding self, and that there was no way in hell he was going to get through to her. 

"I'm going over to Rodney's tonight. We're going to watch Mommie Dearest on AMC. Good luck with your pursuit to save the world," he said, got up, took his coat from the rack and walked out the door. 

Debbie spoke to Jennifer, briefly explaining the situation. Jennifer had received a letter too and began to panic. Jennifer said she was going to call Justin and hung up. Three minutes later the phone rang again. This time Jennifer was nearly hysterical because Justin wasn't answering his cell phone. She had tried to call his home and the loft to no avail. Debbie suggested that she call Michael to round up a search party. She promised she would call Jennifer back as soon as she knew something. 

 

* * * * * * 

 

"Hello?" 

"Where the hell are you Michael?"

"Ma?" Mikey questioned half-asleep, lying on his back. "Is that you?"

"Of course it's fucking me. Who else would wake you up screaming in your ear?"

"Nobody. I'm in bed. What do you want?" he asked and yawned. Ben rolled over and put his arm over Mikey's stomach and nuzzled into his shoulder. 

"Get your ass out of bed and go find Justin. His mother is worried sick."

"What has he done this time?" Mikey said rubbing his hand through his hair.

Debbie gave him the run-down, threatened him to an inch of his life if he didn't find Justin, then abruptly hung up. Mikey cursed the day he'd ever met the blond as he stumbled out of bed and haphazardly put his clothes on. The kid was always fucking with his life.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Debbie just knew something terrible was going to happen. The worry bubbled inside of her like boiled water and she could feel the tension erupting in her shoulders and arms. Debbie grabbed a bag of cheese doodles and plopped down on the couch. She didn't know what else to do. Vic walked through the door and put his coat back on the rack.

"I thought were going to Rodney's" Debbie said as she dug her hand into the orange plastic bag.

"I got there and he had already fallen asleep. So, I decided to come home," he said. 

"That's never stopped you before." 

Vic sat down on the couch next to his sister. "Actually, I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," she said, icily.

"And I'm Harrison Ford," Vic commented, sarcastically. "Now spill."

"I called Jennifer. She got a letter and tried to call Justin. But Justin isn't answering his phone. So I called Michael," she said on the verge of tears and stuffed a few cheese doodles in her mouth

"Are you going through the change?" Vic asked, seriously. "I've never seen you get so worked up over something so trivial."

"You don't understand. I feel it inside. Like something terrible is going to happen and I can't do a fucking thing about it," Debbie sobbed and tried to swallow the orangey paste inside of her mouth. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to those boys. I feel so fucking helpless. And once again that asshole Horvath won't lift a fucking finger. He makes me so angry."

"Don't work yourself up like that. It's probably nothing." He said and grabbed the cheese doodle bag away from her."

"I don't know, Vic. There's something seriously wrong. I can feel it in my gut. Those threats are real. Someone is really going to die."

Vic put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't talk like that."

"I can feel it in every bone in my body." Debbie put her head to her hand. "I'm getting a fucking headache."

"Let me get you some Tylenol." He got up and went to the kitchen cabinet.

"Maybe a little wine would help too."

"I don't think you're supposed to drink alcohol when you take acetaminophen," he said as he opened the bottle of Tylenol and pulled out two white pills.

"Get me a glass anyway. I need it."

"White or red?"

"Red."

He poured a half a glass of wine and then walked back over to the couch. She grabbed the two tablets and swallowed them. Then she grabbed the wine and downed it. 

"Take it easy," Vic warned. 

"I'm starting to feel better already," she said putting the glass down on the coffee table. Vic turned on the TV and the pair sat in silence.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Debbie's head started to feel fuzzy. She noticed that room began to float in long round circles. It was like being in a slow motion merry-go-round. "Vic, I don't feel so good," she said as she tumbled over her words like cartwheels. 

"You probably drank the wine too fast," he mumbled, focused on the screen. 

Debbie tried to pick up her arm to scratch her nose, but it flopped around like it was made of rubber. She closed her eyes for a few seconds hoping that it would help her straighten out her vision. But the room started to haze into a cheaply decorated mesh of bright colors. The patterns mottled together like blobs of wavy balloon magic. "I'm think I'm going to get a glass of water." She started to get up from the couch but fell backward. "I can't get up." she mumbled, groggily. 

But Vic wasn't on the couch anymore. He was talking to someone on the phone. Or at least that's what she thought he was doing. Her vision was too muddy and all she could do was pick out shapes.

"It's done. Come and get her," she heard his voice say. 

"What's going on?" she slurred, trying to reach out to Vic who was across the room, but instead toppled over on the couch.

"Don't worry, sis. It will all be over soon."

Debbie heard a knock at the door. Vic answered it, then walked up the stairs to his room. An older man stood by the door, while a younger dark haired figure came towards her. 

"C'mon Mrs. Novotny. It's time to go," the figure said as he lifted her up.

"Hunter is that you?" she asked.

"I don't know who you're talking about, ma'am." The figure said as he tried to pull her from the couch. "I'm going to need some help here. She's heavy."

"Hunter, it's me, Debbie. Michael's mother. I made you an ice-cream float with pistachio. Remember?" The shapeless apparition ignored her, but she droned on in a slow drippy voice. "You hated the pistachio though. But you love the lemon bars. Everyone loves the lemon bars. Just like everyone loves me. Don't they Hunter? I'm everyone's mother. I dole out pasta, lemon bars, and advice. But not in any particular order." She laughed loudly at her own joke.

The two dark-haired figures were in front of her now. One on each side of her trying to lift her up. She tried to stand, but her legs felt like soggy pasta. 

"I'm a wet noodle," she slurred and giggled.

The two men hoisted her up over their shoulders and slowly walked her to the car. She hit the back seat like a sack of potatoes. The coldness of the pleather felt chilly against her cheek. But she didn't notice it because of the warmness that seemed to ooze from her every pore. The ball of heat surrounded her, searing her body and suddenly she felt feverish. She closed her eyelids to ease her thoughts from flickering brightly like the pulse of strobe light. But she couldn't stop it. She couldn't hold on to a single phrase or picture or sound. It whirred together and drifted away like baby's breath caught in a wind tunnel. Instead she was replaced with a heaviness that labored her breath and left her feeling wilted. "Michael, you're a good man," she whispered and gave into the ever growing desire to fade away. All she wanted to do was sleep.

"Finish up here," the dark haired man said to the teenager. "Meet me back at headquarters." 

The teenager went back into the house and closed the door. The dark-haired man got into his car, drove down the street until he found what he was looking for. "Right on time," he said smugly, as he pulled behind Lindsay's car and followed her to the loft.

 

* * * * * * 

 

The dark haired man in the car watched the trio enter the building. He took his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial.

"What's going on?" The voice said.

"That Mikey is such a tool. This is too easy." said the dark haired man.

"Good, then proceed as planned" the voice said. 

The dark haired man hung up the phone and dropped it on the passenger side seat. He turned on the car and slipped quietly away down the street.


	7. In Search of Clues

Emmett awoke, startled as the alarm clock saturated the air with its throbbing screech. It was by far, the worst sound he had ever heard in his whole life. Justin instinctively rolled over and tried to hit the snooze button but bounced off an arm instead. 

"Ouch," Emmett griped through dry morning mouth.

Justin squinted at the tall figure who was lying with his back toward him. "Brian I'm having the most horrible dream," he said sleepily then closed his eyes.

Brian turned over and snuggled into Justin's neck as his hands roamed until he found what he was looking for. As per usual, Justin was as stiff as wood. Brian smiled in spite of himself. "You're not dreaming. That's really Emmett in our bed."

"We didn't fuck Emmett, did we?" Justin asked, apprehensively, as he pushed his butt into Brian's groin. 

"No, we didn't," Emmett said.

"Thank gawd." Justin breathed, relieved. "No offense to you." Emmett laughed.

"None taken, sweetie." He sat up pulling the covers off of him. The wood floor was surprisingly cold on his feet. He stretched his arm above his head and yawned. "I'll let you two get to your morning fuck. Is it OK if I look in the fridge?"

"Feel free to eat whatever you can find," Justin said as Brian turned him over and mounted him. 

The last thing Emmett saw was Brian lean down and kiss Justin softly on the lips, before he closed the bedroom door. He sighed to himself. Who would have thought The Slut of Babylon would fall in love? 

Breakfast was a simple affair, even by Emmett's standards. He had managed to scrounge up enough food to make a tomato and spinach egg white omelet and coffee. He was amazed at how little food Brian kept on hand. Aside from the guava juice and an ample supply of poppers, the fridge remained somewhat bare of sustenance.

Emmett heard the shower turn on as he stirred the egg whites in the pan with a wooden spatula. "Round two," he said a little jealous knowing that the prospect of him getting laid anytime soon was slim. Emmett took out three plates from cabinet and laid them on the kitchen island. He divided the omelet into three parts, then sliced a couple of peaches he found in the back of the crisper. Emmett took the sliced peaches and used them as garnish. He had just finished putting the plates on the table when Brian came down from the bedroom in a dark blue Armani suit, his hair still a little wet. 

"I made you breakfast," Emmett said, looking Brian up and down. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," Brian said quietly, as he sat down, eyed the food, then took a bite. "You didn't, by chance, make coffee?"

"Actually, I did," Emmett said, smiling. He pulled a mug from the cabinet, filled it with coffee, then handed it to Brian. Justin walked from the bathroom wearing a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt. 

"What's all this?" Justin asked.

"I'm sorry, but I think you've been replaced," Brian said straight-faced to Justin as he sipped his coffee. Justin laughed as sat down in front of a plate of food. 

"Would you like coffee?" Emmett said, playing hostess. Justin nodded. Emmett filled two cups, then set one in front of Justin then took the other and sat down in front of the last plate of food. "Michael and Lindsay should be here soon."

"And I'm going to miss all the fun," Brian said between bites.

"We'll call your cell if anything arises," Justin spoke, shoveling food into his mouth. 

"Nothing had better arise, until I get back," Brian quipped raising his eyebrow. 

"Didn't you get enough this morning?" Emmett asked, resting his elbows on the table, as he held his coffee cup in both hands.

"Brian never gets enough." 

"I'm feeling kind of greasy. Is it OK if I use your shower?" Emmett asked Brian.

"Yes, and you can even borrow some of my clothes," Brian answered.

"Really?" Emmett squealed with excitement.

"Really. But don't jack off on any of my stuff. And if you spill, take it to the cleaners," Brian stated, seriously. "I expect everything back in its original condition." He stood up from his half-eaten plate and polished off the last of his coffee. "I'll be in the office most of the day, just in case you need to get a hold of me." He retrieved his briefcase from the couch where he had tossed it the night before, then headed toward the door. "Have fun playing Clue." He slid the loft door open. "Oh, and boys?" Emmett and Justin glanced over at Brian. "No orgies until I get back." They both shook their heads and resumed eating. Brian walked out and lifted the door to the elevator, just as Mikey bounded up the stairs. "Hi and Goodbye," Brian said and pushed the button going down.

Mikey walked into the loft and shut the heavy door. Justin was cleaning up dishes, while Emmett still sipped at his coffee. 

"Lindsay isn't coming," Mikey stated and sat down at the table. "Melanie insisted she stay home with her today."

"She's probably safer there," Emmett said.

"Mel's got bigger balls then the three of us put together," Mikey commented, dryly.

"Speak for yourself," Justin said and then sat back down at the table. He yawned, then leaned forward and put his chin in his hand.

"I'm going to go and take a shower. Then raid Brian's closet!" Emmett clapped his hands and queened out. "I'm so excited!" He got up and sashayed to the bathroom.

"So, what do you want to do now?" Justin asked.

"Sleep," Mikey moaned and slumped his head down on the table.

"Sorry, there's no rest for the wicked. Let's go over the two remainder clues." 

"Lindsay had the letters last," Mikey remembered. 

"Ah. Well lucky for you, I got them from her last night." Justin went to the kitchen island, grabbed the letters then sat back down at the table. "What would you do without me?"

"Sleep," Mikey answered, seriously.

__  
"Mothers are a fate worse than birth.  
Will it be you?  
Another blonde on the hit list.  
Good luck. You're going to need it." 

Justin finished reading clue and then tossed it in the middle of the table.

"We went through this already," Mikey said, gloomily. "We agreed that the stalker is someone we know well. And that it wasn't Hunter."

"You ruled out Hunter, not me. I still think he might have something to do with this." Justin spoke, suspiciously.

"Why would the kid mess around with us, after all we've done for him?" Mikey said, irritated.

"Because he's an ungrateful little shit," Justin answered.

"I seem to recall that you were once an ungrateful little shit," Mikey said, indignantly. "Or do I need to bring up a certain musician to remind you?"

"Fuck you. You're the one that betrayed me."

"I was only looking out for Brian."

He didn't like where this conversation was heading. But he knew that it was a long time coming. "You should have just minded your own fucking business."

"Brian is my business!" 

Justin could feel the anger rising in his throat. "You had no idea what was going on with us. It wasn't your place to say anything. Things would have worked out much differently if you hadn't opened your big mouth!"

"Don't blame me for your indiscretions! You were cheating on him!"

"It's none of your concern who I fuck!" Justin hissed.

"He's my best friend!"

"He's never going to fuck you. Not now! Not ever!" Justin spat out viciously. "So, just give it up!"

"Girls! Enough!" Emmett yelled as he came out in a fluffy white towel tied around his waist. "I'm going up to Brian's bedroom to put together a fabulous designer ensemble." He crossed his arms against his bare chest. "I don't want to hear a peep from either one you. Nobody is going to ruin my moment!" He locked eyes with each man separately. "Have I made myself clear?" 

"Crystal," Mikey said and then glared contemptuously at Justin. Emmett walked up the stairs into the bedroom and shut the door. 

The pair sat in brooding silence. 

The refrigerator hummed ominously

"It's a mother. It's going to be a mother," Mikey blurted out. 

"What?" Justin asked.

"I just figured it out. It has nothing to do with who heard it or who was there the night Stockwell lost the race. The clue is that someone's mother is going to die."

"Joan?" Justin asked.

"She's not blonde." Mikey stated. "Besides I don't think that would be huge loss for Brian."

"The woman is snake venom." 

"At least we agree on that." 

"Well, the only other mothers we know are Lindsay, Debbie and my mom," Justin said counting on his fingers. 

"Ma, is a red-head," Mikey said.

"Technically she's a blonde under her wig. So, we can't totally rule her out."

"OK. So we can agree that it's going to be one of the three blonde mothers we know?"

"Yeah."

"Then we should move on to the next letter." 

Brian walked into his office sat down in his chair as he put down his briefcase. He placed his feet on the desk, leaned back, closed his eyes and sighed deeply. His third eye throbbed from lack of sleep and his body ached from the morning's carnal workout. Sometimes Justin almost wore him out. He'd never known any guy who could keep up with his libido or his stamina. Brian had fucked guys unconscious more than once. But Justin always wanted more. He was always eager, willing and energized. It was one of the many perks of having a boyfr…….A more-than-once fuck who was 12 years younger.

Suddenly he felt a pang of something in his chest region. What was it that he was feeling? Sometimes it was hard for him to pinpoint the complex nuances of an emotion. He knew what anger felt like. Angst and pain were also well developed, identifiable feelings. This was neither. Could it be longing? Yearning? Why is it that he could never put a name to exactly how he felt about Justin? 

Is this what being in love felt like? Was it the anticipation of seeing Justin after a long day? Was it the way his blue eyes sparkled with adoration and resilience? Was it the annoyance he was accustomed to when Justin went on his holy tirades about doing what you believe in? Was it the desire to appease the blond by (dare he even think it) doing the right thing? Was it the guilty pleasure he received from watching Justin sleep? Or how the touch of Justin's silken hair sliding between his fingers made Brian's whole body tingle? Or the way he seemed to let his thoughts slip through his lips without apprehension when the Justin was around?

These were all things that went beyond sex. Beyond his nine inch cock ramming into a tight pink hole. It perplexed him. Justin was like a 3-D double helix. There were molecules of feeling glued together by other molecules of action that formed chemical reactions. It was a network of complex desires and visceral urges that formed into... Well, he didn't know what. Something that he longed for from Justin. Something that he thought of as a vice: like coffee, like smoking, like sex. Something he needed and couldn't live without. But was it love?

This feeling wasn't like loving Mikey or Lindsay. That, he could count on because it was calculated and consistent. There were no hidden complex equations in the way he felt about them. And Gus? There was a paternal symbiotic bond that coursed through his very life force. But it made sense. It worked in the realm of the conscious logic. 

This Justin feeling - it was slippery. It didn't have a tangible earthiness he could grasp on to. It was like liquid mercury seeping into his veins and plotting a course into his heart. 

His train of thought made his temples throb. It was giving him a fucking headache and he didn't want to think about it anymore.

Brian was saved by the knock on his office door. 

"What?" he said, cocky.

"It's just me," Cynthia said smiling brightly. "I thought you'd like to know your itinerary for the day." She paused and noticed Brian holding his hand to his face. "You look like shit. Another late night with the boy toy wonder?"

"No. Unfortunately, I was up playing Nancy fucking Drew."

"Sounds kinky."

"Not exactly."

"Anyway, you have an 11:00 o'clock appointment with the cat sweater people. So, I hope you have something brilliant planned."

"Don't I always?"

"I have no doubt you'll make feline knitwear stimulating and enticing."

"If they don't like it, I'll just fuck one of their execs. It's a win-win situation."

"Oh I almost forgot. There's a little matter we need to discuss. I'll be right back." Cynthia walked out leaving Brian no clue as to what she was talking about. A few minutes later she came back with a non-descript #10 envelope in her hand. 

He moaned loudly. "Fuck."

"What?"

"Don't tell me. It's some sort of cryptic message glued together from newspaper clippings."

"The glued together part is correct. But there's nothing cryptic about it."

"What do you mean?"

Cynthia handed the letter over to Brian. "They're song lyrics." He grabbed the letter from her and unfolded it hastily.

"What the hell? It doesn't make any sense?"

"You didn't do this?"

"No."

"I thought you were playing a practical joke on me because of my affinity for classic rock."

"This is certainly no joke," he said "And it doesn't follow the pattern of the other letters."

"Other letters? Brian, what the fuck is going on?" He didn't answer. 

There was something about the lyrics that reminded him of something..no....someone. Who the fuck was it? He stared down at the piece of paper, pensively.

__  
"When logic and proportion  
Have fallen sloppy dead  
And the White Knight is talking backwards  
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"  
Remember what the dormouse said" 

"Cynthia, is this a Jefferson Airplane song?"

"Yep. It's called White Rabbit."

There was something that he wasn't recalling. Something that would put it all together. Who had he been talking to about The Airplane? He bit his lip trying to conjure up a memory.

It was Debbie. 

She asked about a lid when they had gotten stoned. No wonder he tried to forget the incident. He had just lost his fuckin' job. But Debbie had been cool about it. She even brought him that disgusting tuna casserole. She was the closest thing he had to a mother......

"A mother is a fate worse than birth," Brian mumbled out loud as his mind began to flip flop like a fish in a trawler net. Everything was starting to come together now. Cynthia sat in awe as Brian chained the incoherent phrases together. "It won't just be a heart that ends up in a dumpster... Dumpster boy... Always giving your heart away to trash... Debbie found the boy in the dumpster behind the diner... Have fallen sloppy dead..And the red queen's off with her head..." He paused then recited the last part again. "Off with her head.....Goddamn it!" he yelled panic stricken. "It's Debbie. It's fucking Debbie!"

"What are you talking about?" Cynthia squealed.

"I've got to go." Brian said and he walked out the office. 

Cynthia followed after him as he scrounged through his pockets for his cell phone. "What about the meeting? And you forgot your briefcase!"

"Fuck the meeting! Fuck it all!" he yelled, dialing the cell. He stopped in front of the elevators. Cynthia pushed the down button for him as he paced. 

Mikey jumped when the cell phone rang. 

"It's mine," Justin said as he grabbed the phone and checked the caller ID. "Brian?"

"It's Debbie!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Cynthia got the last letter. Meet me at the diner. Get there as fast as you can. Send Mikey and Emmett to Debbie's house. Make sure that Mikey doesn't come with you. Make sure he stays at the house with Emmett," Brian said frantically and got into the elevator. He tried to breathe slowly to calm himself down. But he felt winded and his hands were quivering. 

"OK, Brian," Justin said as his voice rose in fear. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door so that Mikey or Emmett couldn't hear what he was about to say. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to make a gruesome picture in Justin's head. He sat down on the toilet lid to stop his legs from shaking. "She's in the dumpster. Isn't she?"

Brian fell against the elevator wall and swallowed hard trying to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. "Sunshine?" he said through a broken sob.

"Yes," Justin said as his own tears began to fall.

"I love you."


	8. In Search of Clues

Justin sat on the toilet lid staring down at his cell phone, frozen with horror and confusion. One little phone call had turned his life upside down in the space of two minutes. He wasn't sure what was more terrifying. The fact that Debbie was more than likely at the bottom of a dumpster amongst the Liberty Diner leavings, or the "I love you" that Brian had uttered at the end of their phone conversation. It had sent chills down his spine and had left him not knowing what to do. So, he didn't do anything, except hang up the phone and stare, and blink, then stare some more. 

Isn't this what he always wanted? For Brian to break down and admit his feelings? In fact, he had abandoned their relationship because he yearned so badly to hear some sort of verbal reassurance. And now, here it was lingering in the air like a satellite transmission, but it held no resemblance of comfort or security; those things he thought he sought after. Instead it felt strange and menacing. Like the weight of the world had come down on him shrouding his small frame. 

In his head, he had always imagined the moment would be more romantic and wistful. Staring longingly into each others eyes, Brian would lightly brush his lips against Justin's and whisper the words through an endearing smile. It was meant to be a heart-felt sentiment. Not a burning hole at the bottom of his stomach. Not a wave of melancholy and panic that rolled over him like tsunami. 

"It's not supposed to be like this!" He murmured to himself and dropped his head in his hands. Brian's sweet words became a weapon that dug a dark hole in Justin's heart. The teardrops rolled down his face in rivulets as he let out a hiccup-like sob. 

Someone knocked at the door. "Baby, are you ok?" 

Justin straightened himself up, unrolled a few squares of toilet paper, and wiped away the wetness on his face. "I'm fine, Em. Just allergies," he said and blew his nose. 

Emmett opened the door gingerly and leaned up against the frame, still wearing the white towel tied around his waist. "I know all about those kind of allergy attacks. I've had a few myself the past couple of months. Why don't you let me come in and we can talk about it." Justin nodded in compliance as the water works started up again.

Emmett walked into the bathroom, closed the door quietly and knelt in front of the blond. He lifted Justin's chin up so that they were eye to eye. His tears dropped onto Emmett's forearms and traveled around his elbows. "Honey, what's going on?"

"If I tell you, you've got to promise not to say anything to Mikey. No matter what," Justin muttered, then sniffed.

"Promise," he whispered, seriously. 

"It's Debbie... We think she's..." He stopped, trying to hold back the sorrow that seemed to well up every time he opened his mouth. "Debbie... he's..." He couldn't get the words out. Instead his lips began to tremble. Emmett let go of Justin's chin and rested his hands on his own thighs. "She's....." He tried once more to communicate but his body stiffened in defense. He felt sick, used up and afraid. His right hand began to shake uncontrollably and he dropped the cell phone. "Shit!" he cursed angrily and grabbed the claw with his left hand. 

"It's Ok, honey," Emmett said, gently taking Justin's hands into his own. "Calm down." He rubbed his thumbs in small circles around the top of Justin's hands. Justin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply trying to leave some of the worry behind. But, all that he could envision was a stiff body laying face down amongst a pile of trash bags. Her red wig smashed and flat. Her nail polish, broken and peeling. Her eyes wide and glazed over. Her mouth gaping open like a slimy, dead fish.

"No!" he yelped, as the air pushed out of his body. His eyes flew open and he clenched Emmett's hands as shook his head wildly. "No! It can't be! I won't believe it. This is all a dream. One of my fucking nightmares. Emmett wake me up!" he pleaded and leaned his head up against Emmett's forehead. "....Please." 

Emmett took Justin's head in his own hands and stared at him fiercely. "Justin, you have to calm down and tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Justin searched Emmett's eyes for something to extinguish the distress surging through his body, but nothing came. "She's dead," he was finally able to breathe out. 

"What?" Emmett asked, fearfully as he searched Justin's blotchy face for some sort of explanation. The blond's eyes were two lakes of drowning misery. There was no absolution, only the petrified expression of a broken man. The news hit him like an anvil knocking the wind out of his lungs. "No........" Emmett croaked out amid a series of broken sobs. 

"I'm sorry," Justin pleaded as he tried to wipe away Emmett's tears with his left hand. His own eyes stung as a flood of liquid spilled down his cheeks. Emmett put his hand over Justin's and held it there for a moment. Then he pulled it away and laced their fingers together.

Emmett leaned in and kissed Justin on the lips. Justin kissed back passionately as Emmett pushed him against the toilet. Justin slid himself down and let his head drop against the edge the toilet seat. Emmett dragged his mouth down Justin's chin onto his throat. He sucked at his jugular vein almost violently trying to draw out whatever life there was left between them. 

His mouth trailed down the blond's clothed chest, feverishly biting down hard as he went along. Emmett unzipped Justin's black jeans and slid them down over his creamy bubble butt. Emmett stuck Justin's cock into his mouth hungrily dragging his teeth as he went down the shaft. But Justin didn't care. Anything felt better than the emotional violence that welled inside him. 

"Make it all go away," he mumbled as he fucked Emmett's mouth. Make the volcano of feelings subside. Make the little pieces of glued together newspaper burn to nothing. "It's all a dream." He was going to wake up from this nightmare. Debbie would be at the diner serving up large amounts of advice with the hash-browns. He would walk up to her and kiss her on the cheek and say thank you for being his second mom. Thank you for the life lessons. Thank you for being there. And Brian. He would turn back into his old closed off snarky self. And the words would vanish. Those three words that seemed to fuck everything up when they are said in fear. But there would be no fear. No words. No fear. He smiled. "No fear." 

But the sound of his own voice took him back into the present where Debbie was dead, Brian said I love you, and Emmett was giving him the most painful blow job of his life. He thrust deeper and deeper trying to force the reality out. But it wouldn't leave. It just got stronger. He bucked, driving his cock down Emmett's throat. Emmett dug into the sides of Justin's hips trying to get the blond to let up. But he didn't. Instead he shot a load so hard that his whole body trembled in violent spurts. Emmett swallowed the best he could and pulled back gasping and choking for air. He lay down on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor and closed his eyes. Justin rubbed his face, stood up and buttoned his pants. He stepped over Emmett and closed the door.

Mikey was still sitting at the dining room table. He had rested his head on his arms and dozed off. Justin went to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Jim Bean. He undid the cap and gulped down as much as he could swallow before it began to burn. He slammed the bottle down on the kitchen island and caught his breath. 

Mikey lifted his head to see what all the commotion was about. Emmett came out from Brian's bedroom in a pair of black jeans and a dark brown v-neck long sleeved shirt. 

"That's a very conservative outfit, Em," Mikey said. "Who died?" Emmett stuck his hands deep down in his pockets and looked down at the floor.

Justin cringed and took another swig off the bottle. "Brian called. I'm going to meet him at the diner. He said for you and Emmett to go to your mom's house and wait there for us."

"Why can't we all go with you?" Mikey asked as he pulled himself out of the chair and stretched.

"I don't know," Justin lied. 

"Do you need a ride?" Emmett asked.

"No. I'll walk," Justin said, quietly, sliding open the loft door. 

Mikey put his hand on Justin's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "For what I said earlier. I should have minded my own business." 

"It's okay," Justin said, hugging Mikey tightly, trying not to break down again. "Just know whatever happens, we're true friends and I will always be there for you."

"Thanks," Mikey said. He walked out of the loft not realizing that every step took him closer to an inevitable truth that would change his life forever.


	9. In Search of Clues

Brian paced the length of the sidewalk outside of The Liberty Diner trying not to lose his cool. He had a habit of putting up a stoic front when faced with adversity, even though his insides were wriggling around like maggots. There were too many variables now that he had complicated matters with sentimentality. 

It was not like him to give in to a moment like that. But the fear had gotten the better of him. He felt trapped in the closed space of his own panic-driven thought process. And he reached out to the only person he knew he would understand. 

Justin.

Only the fear had made him weak – the words had slipped through a hairline crack in what appeared to be a seamless brick structure that he had built around himself.

Brian went inside the diner for some sort of distraction. If he didn’t keep himself busy, his thoughts would betray him. He was not going to start contemplating words. Three words that he vowed that he would never utter to anyone. Not Mikey. Not to Lindsay. Not even to Gus. There were parts of his fortress that he refused to tear down. And he if started thinking about it now, he would have to admit that Justin’s presence had changed him somehow. Selling his belongings for the right to fuck was one thing. Emotional predilection was quite another. It was a beast that Brian had no desire to tame. There were other things more important then his awakening. 

“I love you.”

What in hell had he done? There was no turning back the clock. No way to cover up the evidence. Bury it in a shallow grave and cover it up with bad judgment. A slurry of syllables brought on by drink, ecstasy, pill-popping, amyl nitrate, too much msg. Anything that could excuse him from being in a right state of mind.

Not that he was, because he clearly wasn’t. Too many moving parts and not enough time to deliberate. If only he had thought before opening his trap. Big mouth strikes again. 

Debbie.

Brian spotted Kiki the waitress and asked her if Debbie was due for work. She wasn’t, according to the drag queen server. It was her day off. Brian called Debbie’s house but the phone kept ringing. He thought it was odd that Vic didn’t pick up, but considering that he now had a new boyfriend, it seemed logical that he might not be home. He considered calling Mikey. If they had gone over to the house per the plan, then he would definitely know if she was there or not. But he wasn’t sure if he could keep the conversation going without Mikey becoming suspicious. Mikey was pretty dull sometimes, but he also knew that he could depict even the slightest hint of stress in Brian’s inflection. It was ironic how the man was so naïve and intuitive at the same time. 

Brian decided that Mikey would probably call soon anyway to find out what was going on. Curiosity always got the better of him, and if he did call then Brian would have the edge he needed to mask his quizzical nature. Justin may have gotten Brian to waver, but there was no way in hell he was going to give Mikey the same pleasure. 

Brian walked out of the restaurant and made his way to the side of the building. He spotted the large dumpster and ran his fingers along its grimy edge. How badly did he want to know the truth? It was as easy as pushing back the cumbersome lid and peering inside. But something kept him from the action. Maybe he really didn’t want to know. Maybe knowing would be that final gut-wrenching blow that threw him over the cliff and into the infinite space of uncertainty. Once you were caught in the business of mortality you had to explore the inner-workings of your true self to climb out of the philosophical ambiguousness. 

He did not contemplate his existence when his father died. But this was much different. Debbie was his secret confidante. Somehow she could get through his crystalline layers and scoop out the soft insides. Perhaps Debbie had the vantage point others didn’t. She had witnessed the slow and arduous task of laying down the rows of brick. The wall kept rising, until it eventually became a catacomb of darkened entries. And only she could walk the murky hallways and search out the hidden chambers. Chambers that he coveted and kept to himself. Places that Justin had accidentally had stumbled upon every now and then. 

He couldn’t give up Debbie just yet. He still needed her safety net because if she was dead, there was no one else he could go to who would understand the labyrinth of his hallowed ground. No one could take the place of the maternal warmth that glowed around her like an aura. 

No one.

It pissed him off because he felt betrayed by his own vulnerability and it made his stomach turn. He should be able to stand in the ring of judgment and accept the fate that was bestowed up on him. He had made a career out taking reality by the balls and manipulating it to serve his purpose. In fact, there was a comic book about his goddamn mind control powers. But now, he didn’t feel a like super-hero. He was a clueless mother fucker who couldn’t even open the lid of a trash can. Just a middle-aged man who had faltered and would take the easy way out. 

Brian turned around and stuck his hands in his pocket. He would call Horvath and let him deal with it. He was a cop after all. He was trained for these sorts of things. Brian wasn't. He was ad executive for Christ's sake. A twenty-first century illusionist armed with a computer and a searing wit. No, he wasn’t Rage. And he never would be. He could make meat seem sexy and he could fuck. But other than that he was useless. Brian pulled out his phone and dialed Horvath's direct line.

Justin came around the corner of the diner and spotted Brian. "I thought I'd find you here," he said. Brian turned around and made eye contact with Justin as he talked on the phone. 

He summed up his suspicions with Horvath then hung up. "Horvath is sending someone over right now," Brian stated.

"I talked to the bus boy. The trash was dumped last night. So, no one's been out here. And Debbie's off today."

"I know. I tried to call the house, but there's no answer. What the fuck took you so long?”

“I had to convince Mikey to let me come here alone,” Justin said, trying to believe his own half-truth. “Has he called?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Brian said. He bit his lip and stared at the blond. What he wanted to do was wrap himself around Justin and pull him close. But, Brian couldn’t help notice that Justin seemed distracted and far away despite their close proximity. He was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Brian thought he looked guilty as hell and half-expected the blond to say he wanted to take a shower. He chuckled sardonically in spite of himself.

"So," Justin finally said crossing his arms. "Did you look?"

“Where?”

“In the dumpster.”

Brian looked down. "No."

"Why not?"

"Justin, don't give me shit. This isn't the time," Brian said and leaned against the wall of the diner.

"I'm not giving you shit,” Justin said a little too defensively. He tried to smooth out his voice. “Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"Yes, But dumpster diving isn't in my field of expertise."

Justin stood in front of the other man. "Brian?" 

"Yeah?"

"I'm afraid."

Brian looked over at Justin and locked eyes with him for a moment. "Me too, Sunshine."

"Don't call me that," he said, gravely.

Brian grabbed Justin around the waist and hugged him tightly. "Sorry," he whispered in his ear. Another uncharacteristic word slipping from his lips. Another hairline fracture inching its way into the foundation of his brick clubhouse. 

This is what death did to you. It made you liquid and lucid. It spun a spindly web of neurons and nerves around your logic. So that the every gesture mimicked your hidden weakness and left you feeling like a lobster without its shell. 

But he was sorry. (That he couldn’t dispute.) For all the words that he hadn’t said. But worse, for the ones that he had.

Brian kissed the blond on the side of the neck. Justin winced from the pressure. Surprised by Justin’s reaction, Brian looked down at the tender area. He noticed a large splotchy patch of broken blood vessels. "What the hell happened to you?" 

"What are you talking about?" Justin said reaching for the achy spot. 

"You've got a hicky," Brian teased. 

"I do?" Justin said trying to act nonchalant. But Brian caught the rise in the blond’s voice. 

"I thought I said no orgies without me?"

"It was hardly an orgy."

"Then what was It?" 

"Nothing. I'll tell you later," Justin said as pulled away from Brian and walked toward the dumpster. 

"I'm sure you will." Brian didn't press any further. On one hand he was highly curious as to what had transpired. On the other, maybe it was better that he didn't know. But Justin had never come home with a mark on him. He felt a little pang of something that some people might consider jealousy. But Brian didn't do jealousy. Not right now anyway. He had professed love and said sorry. There was only so much feeling he could handle in one day. Instead he decided it was his nerves.

Debbie

Justin grabbed the lid of the dumpster.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't think I can wait anymore."

"Justin, don't. Let the police handle it."

"I can't. I have to know."

"This is the wrong time to prove that you’re the best homosexual you can be. It's ok to be afraid. It's ok to let someone else do the dirty work sometimes."

"Are you going to stand there and watch or are you going to help me?"

"Fuck!" If it were anyone else he would just stand there, or better yet walk away. Instead, he took the other side of the lid. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?"

Brian caught a flicker of doubt wash over the Justin’s blue eyes. “Yes,” he said indignantly.

Brian grabbed Justin with his free hand and kissed him. "Here goes nothing.” The pair lifted up the lid. 

Debbie was face down on top of a heap of trash bags. Only, it was worse than Brian could ever have imagined. He hadn't prepared himself for the sight of the silver letter opener that pinned the red stained note to her back. In bloody loopy letters someone had scrawled. 

"Too little. 

Too late!"

Brian and Justin flinched and jumped back as the top of the dumpster crashed down. 

“Christ,” Justin said turning away and leaned his hand against the diner wall for support. He put his head down and tried to quell the desire to throw up. But he couldn’t get the greyish texture of her lifeless skin out of his head. He fell to the ground on his knees as his stomach lurched in painful heaves. 

Brian could only see the blood. Its thick oily texture pooling on the floor of an enclosed parking structure. He had been covered in it and it never came off. Even after he scrubbed his skin raw, he still felt the sticky film of death on him. A white scarf dangling around his neck like a rosary. A bloody note gouged into his consciousness like a bullet. And this is what loving someone did. 

Baseball bats and letter openers.

Prom dances and I love you’s. 

“Fuuuuuck!” Brian yelled enraged and slammed his fist down on the metal trash can. He raked his fingers through his hair, spun around and walked away.

In pace requiescat.


	10. In Search of Clues

Mikey drank in the gloomy silence like a thirsty lesbian as he and Emmett walked to his mother’s house. It felt good to finally be able to say nothing. The oddities of the past 24 hours or so had crept up on him like a giant tarantula. A heady sort of thing with too many eyes. Too many future story arcs that mulled around his head like comic book panels. Was there really a killer? If so, then why? What was he trying to accomplish with this game of Clue? Who would be the first victim? There were so many possibilities. So many threads of perception. So many people to worry about. 

Blondes everywhere.

Mom

Jennifer

Cynthia

Justin

Then there was Emmett. Mikey noticed the defeated look on his face; his head down, shoulders slumped. Something had happened, but he wasn't sure what. Perhaps he didn't want to know, because there were already too many things to consider. For one, why the hell had Justin sent him to his mother's house? It didn't make sense unless something ominous happened at the diner. In that case, it probably had something to do with Ma, but he wasn't ready to follow that course of thinking, because the end result was more frightening then he could handle right now. He was tired and worn like the frayed edges of an old pair of jeans. And in this state he was more prone to let the drag queen side win over his Italian genes. He didn't feel much like James Gandolfini. Maybe Cher. 

Mikey and Emmett walked up the stairs to Debbie's house. "Ma? Vic? Is anyone home?" He called as he opened the door. 

"Oh, my God!" Emmett squealed standing in the frame with his hand over his mouth.

Mikey apprehensively moved into the middle of the living room and scanned the damage. "What the fuck!" He gasped. The coffee table was hacked into jagged pieces of flotsam. Pictures were thrown to the floor, the broken glass scattered. The ceramic bric-a-brac was smashed into powdery clumps that stuck to the carpet. The couch was slashed so deeply that the white stuffing inside poked through. The dining room table and kitchen chairs were stacked up like a giant pile of firewood. 

"Ma!" he yelled. "Vic!"

Emmett ran into the house and grabbed the phone. 

"What are you doing? Don't touch a fucking thing!"

"I'm calling the police," Emmett said, ignoring Mikey. He dialed 911.

"I'm going to check upstairs," Mikey managed to stammer out as he hopped up the stairs two at a time. 

"Vic! Ma!" There wasn't an answer. Mikey stood in the hallway, his heart thumping in his temples. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but he thought he heard the running bath tub tap. He tried to move, but his legs felt like they were two stumps of concrete. He managed to take a step, then another, but the closer he got to the bathroom the heavier and slower his body became. Something squished underneath his feet. He looked down and noticed that water was escaping from the crack underneath the door and spreading outward onto the carpet. Mikey stood there pressed against it and listened intently. He sucked in a long breath and exhaled, then turned the knob.

Mikey opened the door gingerly as a gush of water tinged with red wrapped around his ankles. The shower curtain was closed but he could still see the outline of a figure lying in the tub. Mikey turned and faced the shower curtain. His eyes fixed on the blood. "Vic?" he asked, in almost a whisper. But again, there was no answer. He knew he had to pull the curtain back to see who or what the figure was. But he stood there for a long time.

"Don't think," he kept repeating. "Just do it." Finally his brain registered the command. He gripped the plastic in his hand and forcefully pulled it back. Mikey choked out a scream as he fell to the floor like a rag doll.

When Emmett found Mikey in the bathroom he was staring wildly at body in the bathtub. Vic lay lifeless, a razor blade still clamped between his thumb and forefinger, as streaks of blood streamed down the porcelain tub like a waterfall.

"He's HIV positive!" Emmett shrieked as he tried to pull Mikey out of the bloody water. "Get up! Now!" 

"Shit!" Mikey spat out as he lifted his hands out of the blood soaked liquid. Mikey scrambled up, then ran down the stairs as he pulled his shirt off frantically. Emmett followed close behind. Mikey ripped off the rest of his clothes and threw them as far away from him as he could. He searched the bottom cupboard until he found a new sponge and a bottle of liquid cleanser. He turned the water on as hot as possible, wet the sponge, then doused it with cleanser. Mikey scrubbed his hands violently until they were raw, then his arms, his chest, his legs, his feet. “Get it off me! Get it if off of me!"

"Mikey! Stop!" Emmett yelled desperately and tried to put his own hand down on Mikey's shoulder

"Don't touch me!" Mikey whined as jumped back and then started scrubbing again. 

Emmett went and sat on the bottom of the step of stairway. He dropped his head in his hands and started to cry.

…………………………………………….

The next few hours for Emmett came and went like a blur. 

The police were there within minutes. They spoke to Emmett briefly and went directly upstairs to the bathroom. The paramedics followed soon after. 

Emmett tried to compose himself the best he could and called Ben. He didn’t have a direct extension or a cell phone number and Mikey was in no state to give it to him. So, he called Carnegie Melon and spoke to the operator explaining the situation in the most simplest of terms. She promised that she would track down Ben and have him call as soon as possible. 

The paramedics pulled Vic’s body out of the tub and rushed him to Allegheny General Hospital. He barely had a pulse, but he was alive. 

Ben didn’t call. Instead he showed up at the door fifteen minutes later. The police were hesitant to let him into the scene of the crime. But Emmett pleaded that Mikey needed the comfort of his boyfriend right now. 

Ben rushed to the kitchen. Mikey was sitting on the floor wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly. Ben sat down in front of Mikey, grabbed a shaky hand and tried to make eye contact. But Mikey looked at Ben in a drugged out haze and smiled, his face chapped and scratched like it had been grated with sandpaper.

“Hi,” Mikey said.

“How are you?” 

“They gave me drugs,” Mikey said placidly.

Ben kissed Mikey on the forehead. “I’ll be right back, Okay?”

“Okay.”

…………………………………………

Ben searched out Emmett who was in the backyard, hands crossed over his chest, and pacing. 

“What did they give him?” Ben asked grimly.

Emmett stopped pacing. “They pinned him down and injected him with some kind of downer. Maybe a valium. He was hysterical and wouldn’t stop scrubbing.”

“Scrubbing? What are you talking about?”

Emmett explained the details of Mikey’s obsessive-compulsive behavior. “He’s calm now, but there’s more.”

“What?” Ben asked trying to wrap his brain around all that had happened.

“It’s Debbie,” Emmett said coldly. All the feeling had been flushed from his body long ago. He was functioning on adrenaline and shock now. “She’s dead.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Emmett?” 

“Brian and Justin found her in the diner’s dumpster.”

“Wait a minute,” Ben said shaking his head and putting a hand to his temple. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Did I stutter?” Emmett asked.

Ben ignored the tone of Emmett’s voice and pressed further. “Does Mikey know?” 

Emmett shook his head. 

…………………....

Ben was instructed to let Mikey sleep off the effect of the valium and then make an appointment with the doctor’s for the following day. Mikey was scratched up pretty badly, but the abrasions were minor enough that he didn’t need to be admitted to the hospital. 

Emmett decided to stay with the police until he wasn’t needed anymore. They wanted to take him down to the precinct for a formal statement, which he was grateful to do, because it kept him busy and numb. He wasn’t looking forward to the buzz ending, and then having to face the events of the day; the longer he could delay it, the better.

The police also wanted a testimony from Mikey, but he was in no condition at the moment. A policeman gave Ben his card and said that as soon as Mikey was more coherent to give him a call. It was important they got the statement while it was still fresh in his mind. Ben promised the cop that he would call as soon as he woke up.

Ben found Mikey dozing on the kitchen floor curled up in the fetal position. He rolled him over, wrapped him tightly in the blanket and picked him up. Mikey opened his eyes and smiled at Ben. “My hero,” he muttered and then went back to sleep. 

………………………………….

Brian and Justin held each other tightly as Debbie’s body was lifted out of the dumpster. Justin pressed his head deeper into Brian’s chest and held onto him like a life raft. 

“All we have is each other,” Justin whispered.

Brian nuzzled his head into Justin’s hair and kissed him. 

Debbie’s face was serene and peaceful as the coroner placed her in the body bag. She seemed innocent and pristine like the smell of freshly laundered sheets blowing in the breeze on a warm sunny day. But as the zipper trailed up her body and over her head, everything faded into the black.


	11. In Search of Clues

Detective Scott Cooper was convinced the only reason he was assigned to the case was because he was gay. It sure as hell wasn't for his reputation. He had only transferred from the Harrisburg Precinct 6 months ago. Since then, he had done little else but push papers around his desk. 

The minutes seemed to drag on like hours. Too much time to dwell on his pathetic break-up. The doors slamming, the silverware scattered, the clothes being thrown out the front door. Was it all worth it? He wasn’t sure. Five years was a long time to be married to a woman that felt more like your best friend than your lover. He tried to explain to her that this was for her own good. The lies would destroy them eventually, but Carrie didn’t care. Her world had been destroyed and next to go were the dishes.

So, Detective Cooper left it all behind to start over with a new job in a different city. A new apartment that wasn’t stained with Carrie’s memory. 

Only this job hadn’t been what he expected. The hours sitting in his desk, walking to the water cooler, sharpening his pencils, rearranging his desk, alphabetizing the file folders, filling the stapler, was becoming fucking tedious. He needed some action, goddamn it. He needed something to break the monotony. But he was the new guy in town and the token queer on the force. 

So, he was left with reports and a never-ending pile of paper clips.

Until now.

Detective Horvath had asked Detective Cooper to go downtown and look at a body in a dumpster. There had been two calls within a half-hour of each other and they seemed to be related. But Cooper was hesitant of Horvath's motives. He leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the top of the desk.

“Why me? I’ve been here six months and you’ve barely even looked in my direction.”

“I think you’re a good cop, and I think you deserve a break.” Horvath said and paced a small section of the office.

“Spare me the kiss-ass tactics, Horvath. Just give it to me straight.”

Horvath turned toward Cooper. “Do you want to know the truth?”

“I expect nothing less.”

“I think I know the victim. It’s personal. I can’t handle this case alone.”

“You know someone on Liberty Avenue?” Cooper asked, surprised.

“It’s a long story, Cooper. One I don’t care to get into.”

“Do you think it’s a hate crime?”

“I’m not sure. The victim isn’t…But….”

“But what?”

“Her son is.”

“So, again. Why ask me? There are others more qualified on the force.”

“You’re the best person to handle the……….. delicacy of the situation.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Horvath,” he said standing up and putting his suit jacket on. “Looks like I’m free today.”

Horvath didn’t have the best tactics in the world. In fact, his ruse had been as thin as rice paper, but Detective Cooper wanted nothing less than to get out of the office. To feel the sun beating on his face. To breathe in real air, not that air conditioned shit at the precinct. His mind was becoming dull and he needed to feel the snapping synapse of neurons. The rush of blood to his head. To get rid of the sight of Carrie’s tear stricken face. So, he put his idealism aside and went to check out the body in the dumpster while Horvath supervised a team at the house. 

…………………………………………………….

Three days had gone by since Debbie Novotny was fished out of a dumpster, and Detective Cooper was nowhere near the answer. He stared down at the two case files, letting the evidence roll around his head like tumbling rocks. 

Nothing about this case made sense. According to his notes, the temperature of the body on site had been 82 degrees. The cadaver was warm and stiff, which meant that the probable time of death couldn’t be more than 8 hours from the time it was found. That would put her death between 2:10-2:15 a.m. But she couldn’t have died from the surface wound the letter opener had made. There was too little blood splatter and some drainage around the wound which meant that the letter opener had been stabbed in her back post mortem. 

He deducted she must have died from an overdose. But from what? There were no signs of prescribed medications in the house except those belonging to her roommate. It had to have been something she took accidentally or that had been slipped to her. 

But who would do such a thing? 

The note was puzzling too. The words had been scrawled in actual blood, but whose blood, he wasn’t sure.

“Too little, too late”

What did it mean?

The damage to the house was even more curious. It was trashed to make it seem like a random act of violence. But it was too contrived and the wreckage was too deliberate. Whoever had done it had taken the time to make piles of the rubbish, almost as if he or she had felt guilty. 

The deceased had to have known the person.

What about the old man in the tub? Vic Grassi. He was far too frail to pick up that heavy kitchen table and break it up like fire wood. Besides, it wouldn’t make sense to trash your own house then go upstairs and try to kill yourself. 

Unless of course, you were involved. 

Cooper deducted that the old man probably knew of the set-up, which meant that he either he had been away or had been upstairs when the trashing had taken place. Then he had got into the bath and tried to commit suicide. But you didn’t slice your veins open unless you had a good reason. He had probably done it out of shame or severe guilt. 

But what was he guilty of? 

Maybe Vic had been the one to give the deadly dose of medication. But if so, then how could he approach the deceased without her knowing about it?

The logic was slippery and frustrating. Cooper wouldn’t be able to ask the old man any questions until he came out of the coma. If, he came out. The only thing that had saved his life was the water in the bath tub turning cold. It had helped coagulate the wounds and slow down the blood flow. Vic had lost a lot of blood, and was pumped full blood volume expander. But he was far from being able to make a statement. 

Then were the cryptic statements from Mr. Honeycutt, Mr. Kinney and Mr. Taylor. Cooper couldn’t make heads or tails out of them yet. Mr. Kinney and Mr. Taylor both had said that they stumbled upon the body accidentally. That Mr. Taylor had been taking out the trash from the diner even though it was his day off. Mr. Kinney had just happened to be there to meet Mr. Taylor for lunch. 

Even more curious was Mr. Honeycutt’s statement. He had said that he had been with Mr. Taylor and Mr. Novotny prior to walking to the deceased house. Mr. Taylor was to meet Mr. Kinney at the diner while Mr. Honeycutt and Mr. Novotny stay at the house until further notice. 

They were hiding something that’s for sure. It had all seemed too coincidental. Mr. Kinney and Mr. Taylor knew that the body was in the dumpster. Somehow they had been tipped off. 

But by who?

What Cooper didn’t know was the answer was going to walk through the door.

“Detective Cooper?” 

He looked up, startled, at the police officer who had stepped into his office. “Yes?”

“There’s someone here to see you. A Brian Kinney? He says it’s urgent.”

“Send him in,” Detective Cooper said and stood up. Brian walked into the small office and shook hands with the detective, then sat down in the one remaining chair. They looked at each other for moment. Detective Cooper thought that Brian eyes flashed a hint of recognition. “What can I help you with Mr. Kinney?”

Brian rolled his tongue around in his mouth and smiled. “Call me Brian.”

“Brian, then.”

“How’s the case going?”

“It’s not, if you want to know the truth.” Cooper said and folded his arms in his lap. “I’m still waiting on the results of the autopsy and toxicology report. That will at least give me a cause of death. Right now, I’ve got a bunch of evidence and no motive”“What about Vic?”

“The elderly gentleman in the bathtub?” Cooper asked, licking his lips as he scanned the length of Brian’s black jeans. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Brian said.

“Sorry to say that it appears to be your garden variety suicide-attempt.”

“What about the house?”

“We assume that whatever incident transpired to cause someone to trash the house was the reason for the suicide attempt.”

“So, basically, you don’t know shit.”

Cooper laughed. “Essentially.” 

Brian studied the detective’s tousled dark brown hair, the round edges of his face. “Have I met you before?”

“I supervised the crime scene, and I was there when you and your boyfriend made your statements.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Brian said, annoyed. Detective Cooper nodded, unconvinced. “I’ve seen you somewhere else before. Babylon?”

“What would make you think that?” Detective Cooper asked.

“I saw you staring at my dick.”

“Aww….” Detective Cooper said, amused. “In that case, then yes, we have met before.”

“I knew it!” Brian snapped his fingers then pointed at the detective. “You sucked me off the other night in the backroom.”

“Then your…friend came and got you.”

“Were you good?” Brian asked and chuckled. He pulled out the bundle of #10 envelopes from his jacket pocket and threw them down on the desk. “Here’s your motive.” 

Cooper studied Brian as he explained the events of the last five days in great detail. So, this was the missing piece of the puzzle. The murder was a set-up. A revenge tactic. This was case was going to be worse than he thought. Why were these sorts of things always so ugly, so personal?

“Why didn’t you tell me this three days ago? This is very important information that you left out of your statement.”

“I don’t trust cops. The last experience left a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Concerned citizens for the truth.”

“You know about that?”

“I do my research, Mr. Kinney. So, why give me the letters now?”

“Let’s just say we’re on the same team,” Brian chuckled.

“Aw…,” Cooper said feeling like a pawn in a bad game of chess. “Well, I’ll need a print-out of the email,” 

“Did you hear a fucking word I just said? I just gave you a motive.”

“What would you like me to do about it?”

“Solve the crime. Find the fucker.”

“You know. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t just sit here eating donuts with our thumbs up our asses. All this takes time.”

“Time is what I don’t have.”

“Unfortunately, this isn’t a high profile case. We’ve got a corpse that was found on Liberty Avenue with a letter opener in her back. I’m sorry to say, but no one on the force has much sympathy for her. I hear she had quite a big mouth.”

“Her reputation even precedes her after death,” Brian quipped.

“The coroner will take their sweet time with the autopsy and the toxicology screen. Forensics. They’ll get to the evidence as soon as they are damn good and ready. Realistically, I’m not going to have anything conclusive on my desk for another 4-6 weeks. I can take a look at these letters and lobby to speed up the procedures. And, I’ll check out the “Pittsburgh Out” offices. They will have records of who placed the ad. But other than that, there’s not much I can do.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do in the mean time?”

“Stay on guard, and if you do get anything suspicious, contact me immediately.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Brian said, sarcastically, getting up and walked out the door.

Detective Cooper really did feel bad for Brian. He understood his frustration. But Cooper was just an unpopular guy caught in the bottle neck of a tedious system. There was nothing he could do.


	12. In Search of Clues

Brian laid on his back staring up at the shadows that danced across the bedroom ceiling. He glanced over at the scruffy looking man sleeping next to him and deliberated on whether to kick him out. Usually he hated to have his latest fuck anywhere near him within seconds of orgasm. After the semen receptacle had served its purpose, what was the point of him hanging around? It was easier to be rash and vicious from the beginning. It left less room for smitten proclamations of “next time.” Or idiot attempts to stuff phone numbers down the front of his pants. Only tonight he didn’t have the motivation for ruthlessness. 

 

For some reason, Brian couldn't handle the empty side of the bed where Justin should be. It felt vacuous and sinister like a whirling vortex of suffering and regret. So, he let the mediocre fuck lay there for the time being; just until he could figure out a viable explanation for Justin’s sudden hermetic departure.

The fucking twat had left again, citing something about needing “space.” Something about too much death and needing to clear his head. At the time, it seemed like a good idea to Brian. The sex had been horrible. It was like an uncomfortable game of Twister, arms and legs splayed out in every direction. Brian couldn’t seem to get into the rhythm, but mostly because Justin wasn’t into it. So, he agreed to asinine suggestion more out of spite than real concern. Besides, that’s what Justin did best, right? The little fucker was always running away.

Now the emptiness lay on Brian like a heavy brick. The haziness of the drug-laden week began to fade. His mind was clearing and the wheels of his hamster habitat began to turn. Brian couldn’t get the splotchy bluish-yellow patch on the side of Justin's neck out of his head. His curiosity was getting the better of him. He knew only two people had been at the loft with Justin that morning: Emmett and Michael and neither seemed like a relevant choice. The logical part of him rejected the idea unmercifully, but the other side, the nagging insecure part, held on to it like a pit-bull and made his stomach lurch. Why couldn’t he just let it go? It had nothing to do with what was happening now. Or at least he hoped it didn’t.

 

If only Detective Cooper had more answers. Brian went to the officer hoping to regain some control over the situation. With Justin gone and his job insisting he take a bereavement leave, he needed something to do. Something that he could hold on to, but the Detective only worsened his pivotal position on the slippery cliff of despair. It had been just the nudge he needed to step off. It was nothing Anita the disco pharmacologist and an entourage of men couldn't cure. The last few days had been a breeze. He could hardly remember the blond twink even existed, let alone his name. He didn’t need anyone, especially some little twat who left every time he didn’t get what he wanted. He could find a bed warmer anywhere. They were a dime a dozen. Just as long as he kept the perpetual motion going, then there was no need to look back.

Move on.

Only now that he had come out of the fog, he was right back where had started from. There was still no Justin.

…………………………………………………………………………………..

"It's Brian again," Daphne announced, looking down at the caller ID screen. "Should I answer it?"

"Might as well."

"Hello?" she asked.

Nothing, just breathing. 

Daphne rolled her eyes and handed the phone to Justin. "Brian, I have caller ID." Still nothing. "This is bullshit. I'm coming over." Frustrated, he scowled and then tossed the phone on the bed.

"Are you really going over there?” She asked, hovering near Justin.

"Yes. He obviously needs me.” He scrounged around the bedroom floor for his socks and shoes, then finding them, put them on. 

"I didn't hear him say anything like that. All I heard was a lot of breathing."

"Yeah, well, with Brian you've got to read between the lines.”

"I thought you told him you needed some space."

"I do need space. But I guess it will have to wait."

"Don't go," Daphne said, worried. "I've got a bad feeling about this." 

"I already said I was going over." Justin threw on a jacket and then tossed his carry bag over his shoulder. 

Daphne lightly touched Justin’s arm. "Let it blow over and talk to him in the morning."

"I've got to go," he said, stubbornly and stormed past her. 

"Call me when you get there."

"Fine," she heard him say as he loudly closed the door.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

Hunter walked through the front door of the apartment and tried to slink past Ben’s stare.

“Hey, “Ben said, seriously. “I’ve been waiting up for you. Have a seat.”

Hunter begrudgingly sat down at the table. “What do you want?”

“Where have you been?”

“Out.”

“You’ve been “out” a lot lately.” Hunter glared at his Sketchers and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I know things are tough right now with Michael…the way he is. And with Debbie….” Ben couldn’t seem to find the momentum to finish his sentence.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Hunter said, stomping off to his room and slamming the door.

Ben hit his fist on the table and ran his fingers through his hair. “Goddamn it!” he growled and then huffed into Hunter’s room. Ben softened as he noticed Hunter lying face down sobbing into his pillow. He sat at the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his calf.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ben asked.

“Leave me the hell alone.”

“It might be good to talk about whatever is bothering you.” 

He felt stupid as the words slipped out of his mouth. Like it wasn’t obvious what was wrong with the boy. 

Michael had been in an almost catatonic stupor since he had identified the body. He came back from the police station and crawled straight into bed. It had been a little over a week now and Michael had barely left the room except to take the occasional shower or go to the bathroom. Ben wasn’t quite sure what to do. So, he paced around the small apartment, not daring to leave. 

Melanie, Lindsay, and Emmett were helping out as much as possible by taking shifts at the hospital to look after Vic. Lindsay had made sure to bring over a Tupperware bowl of home-made soup and a loaf of fresh bread. It was something Debbie would have done and even though the gesture was kind, it held too many nostalgic implications. To Ben, it seemed as if he didn’t see the bowl then the pain, the loss, didn’t exist. So he hid it at the bottom of the refrigerator and since then had ordered take-out. He rationalized that it was easier than cooking. But the reality of it was it was easier than dealing with the grief. 

Justin rotated between the hospital and the house. He brought his sketchbook and tried to get Mikey to focus on ideas about the comic, but the absence of Brian hung in the air like a white elephant. Mikey never asked why Brian didn’t come, but Justin could detect the hidden nuances in his body language. It was too easy to read, because he had been there himself. 

The house was always full of people coming and going, but the visits gave Ben a little bit of breathing room. A small window of time to decompress and a little more time for him to realize Hunter hadn’t been around.

Ben noticed Hunter would leave the house before anyone was awake and then return late after everyone had gone to bed. He was like a ghost. The only way Ben knew he had been there were the cereal bowls left in the sink or the heap of clothes left on the bed. But Ben need to make sure the boy was okay. Hunter had been through so much and Ben felt like he needed to make him feel secure in some way. Be a rock for the boy, something for him to hold on to and steady himself.

“I’m here for you, Hunter. You can trust me.”

 

“I can’t tell you,” Hunter sniffled.

“You can tell me anything. I’m not here to judge you.”

Hunter sat up and wiped his nose with the side of his sleeve. “You’re going to be pissed.”

“Just tell me.”

“Promise me you won’t kick me out.”

“Okay, I promise,” Ben said. 

“And that you will protect me. They said if I squealed, I’d end up in a dumpster too.”

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked as the hair on his arms stood up. 

“Look, I didn’t know he was going to kill her. He said it was just supposed to scare Brian. To get him to do what he wanted. He said that they would just keep her until the deal was made. That’s it.”

Ben heard the words scatter in his head like scrabble tiles, but nothing seemed to register. He tried to keep focused even though he felt the panic-driven, prickly heat shoot through his arms. “Hunter, who are you talking about? What deal?”

“I don’t know. I only know what Vic told me. He said they were going to hold Debbie for a ransom.”

“Vic?”

“Yeah, Vic. He told me that he was going to give her the sleeping pills. After that, they were going to pick her up and take her to a hideout. I was supposed to trash the house.”

“But why?

 

“To scare the shit out of Brian. If Debbie was missing and the house was trashed then he would get the hint that the letters were real. So, when they actually hit him with the ransom, he’d do whatever they said.”

Ben felt the room closing in on him. “What ransom?”

“I don’t know. But it’s an inside job, because the guy has all kinds of personal shit on Brian. I mean stuff that you wouldn’t know unless you’ve been around him a long time.

Ben got up and started pacing the room, trying not to get pissed, “Why the fuck would you do something like this Hunter? After everything we’ve done for you!!”

Hunter’s bottom lip started to quiver. “Vic told me that if I didn’t do what they said that they were going to kill you.”

“That’s ludicrous.”

“Vic had pictures of you and Michael. You were being followed.”

“Vic had us followed?” 

“I’m not sure.”

“Stay right here, Hunter. Don’t move,” Ben said and hurried into the living room.

“What are you doing?” Hunter asked frantically and stood in the frame of the door.

Ben picked up the phone. “I’m calling Brian.”

Hunter turned around and fell face first in the bed. “Fuck, I’m in trouble.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

The maudlin residue clung to Brian like saran wrap. He couldn't lie in the bed with the stranger any longer. 

“Get up,” he said to the body. “It’s time for you to go.”

The body looked over at the clock “It’s midnight.”

“And I’m not waiting around for you to turn into a pumpkin. Now get the fuck out.” The stranger grumbled and explicative dressed in a hurry and trudged out the door.

Brian took a vial of white powder out of the dresser drawer and did a bump. He let the instant buzz rush through his body until he couldn’t feel anything anymore. He was numb and that’s how he liked it. 

He got up, threw on a pair of black jeans and a black wife beater. Then he put on his black leather jacket and put the vial in his pocket. The phone rang, but he ignored it. On the way out the door he checked himself in the mirror.

“I’d fuck me,” he said.

The answering machine beeped. “Brian, it's Ben. If you’re there, pick up. It’s an emergency.”

Brian answered the phone. “I’m here.” He listened as Ben explained the situation. “I’ll be right there.”

………………………………………………………………………………

Ben and Brian stared down at Hunter slumped on the couch. 

“Unfuckinbelievable,” Brian snarked. “What are you going to do for an encore?”

“Look, I said I was sorry.”

“Well, sorry’s aren’t going to cut it, kid. You do realize that you are an accessory to a murder?”

Ben turned to Brian. “Wait a minute. You’re not seriously thinking of turning him in.”

“Then hell I’m not.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“And Debbie was “just” murdered!”

Hunter jumped off the couch. “You can’t go to the cops or I’m as good as dead!” He turned to Ben, angrily. “You promised you’d protect me!”

“I’m keeping my promise, Hunter. It’s just… this is really complicated.”

“I don’t even know if I fucking believe your story anyway. I haven’t gotten any ransom note.”

 

“I’m not fucking lying. Why would I lie about this?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said.

“There’s more.”

“What?” Brian said and snapped around.

“If I tell you, then you’ve got to promise not to go to the cops.”

“No deal,” Brian growled between his teeth.

“Then fuck you!” Hunter spat out and started to stomp away, but Brian grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall, pushing his forearm into Hunter’s throat. 

“Tell me, you little shithead or I’ll fucking kill you myself!” 

Ben grabbed Brian by the back of the shoulders and pushed him away. “Get the fuck off him!” 

Brian’s anger had already boiled over. He punched Ben straight in the jaw. Ben fell back and then lunged for Brian. Brian felt the wind being knocked out of him as his body slammed against the wall. They locked eyes for a second like ravenous predators. Ben realized he could easily pummel Brian into the ground, and he’d do it just for the thrill of the release. So that someone else could feel how destroyed he felt inside. He jumped back and let go.

Ben turned toward the door locking his hands behind his head. Brian leaned up against the wall, breathing heavy and shook out his hand. 

“Just fuckin’ tell him, Hunter.”

“He’s going to turn me in to the cops.”

“Just tell him!!” Ben bellowed.

“That night we took Debbie. I overheard the driver talking to his boss on the phone. There’s going to be another hit.”

………………………………………………………...

Daphne awoke to the sound of pounding on the front door.

 

“Hold on!” she yelled, half-asleep and annoyed. She threw on a pair of sweat pants and shuffled to open the door. “Justin how many times do I have tell you to remember your…..” She swung the door open with a huff. “...key.” But it wasn’t Justin. “Brian, what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to Justin,” Brian slurred bracing himself with his arm in the doorway. 

“Justin’s not here.”

“I really need to talk to him” He pushed past her and bumped into walls like a ping pong ball as he made a beeline to Justin’s room. “Justin,” he called out. 

“Brian, he’s not here,” Daphne said, seriously as she stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. “He said he was going to your house.”

Brian sat down on the bed and fingered the duvet. “He needs to come home,” he almost whispered.

“Are you okay? You look really fucked up.”

“I had a drink…. or ten,” he said and pulled out an almost empty fifth of whisky out of his pocket. He took a long swig and drained the rest of the liquid. The bottle fell to the floor with a thud. “I need to talk to Justin.”

“He went to find you,” she tried to explain to him.

But he was too fucked up to listen. Brian lay down on the bed and clung to the pillow. He closed his eyes. “I’ve got to be a super-her...save Gayopolis…. But there’s no Rage…. without JT. Who’s going to give him blow jobs.…Who’s going to thaw out his cold….cold heart?” He could smell Justin all around him. It was warm and comforting like a cocoon and he never wanted to lose the sensation. “I have to tell Justin...I need a blowjob….”

“Brian?” She poked at him, but he had already passed out.

She immediately searched for the phone and dialed Justin’s cell. 

“Daphne, you don’t have to check up on me.”

“I’m not. Brian’s here. He’s passed out in your bed.”

“He came looking for me?” Justin asked, surprised. “Did he say anything?”

“Something about giving him a blow job to warm his cold heart? It didn’t make any sense to me.”

Justin laughed. It made perfect sense to him. 

“What’s so funny?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Justin said. “Just don’t let Brian leave. I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and put it back into his pocket.

Justin didn’t notice the car swerving onto the sidewalk until it was too late. As Justin hit the windshield he thought he saw a familiar face. He fell to the pavement in a giant heap. 

“Ted?”

He spoke the one word and then closed his eyes giving iinto the darkness.


	13. In Search of Clues

Daphne sat on the couch in her apartment tapping her foot nervously. Where the hell was Justin? Nearly an hour had passed since he had called to say that he was on his way home. It was not like him to lag, especially knowing that Brian was in the other room wheezing like the gritty sound of a bagpipe.

Daphne grabbed the phone from the coffee table and dialed Justin's cell for what seemed like the millionth time. Still no answer. Her stomach tightened into a nauseous ball. Something was definitely wrong, and she wasn’t about to sit around any longer waiting for the inevitable bad news. It was time to get together a search party. She went into the kitchen and filled a small plastic tumbler with water, then took it into Justin’s room. 

"Brian, wake up!" Daphne yelled, but Brian didn’t move from the curled up fetal position, snuggled around one of Justin’s pillows. She tried to shake him awake, roughly. "Brian, c'mon, wake up!" Brian moaned, softly, but didn't stir. Daphne stood there for a second deliberating on whether or not she should really do it. The consequences could be life-threatening considering the victim’s notorious volatile temperament, but she decided there was no other way. “You've left me no choice, Brian" she said, then dumped the tumbler of water over his head. 

Brian bolted up, startled and irate. "What the fuck!" He glowered at Daphne, seething with a heated intensity. 

Daphne took a step back and put her hands to her chest, and shrugged. "Sorry," she said, meekly. "I needed to get your attention."

"This had better be good," he hissed through clenched teeth as he draped his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to wipe the wetness from his face, then his leather jacket, t-shirt, and pants.

"It's Justin. I don't know where he is and he's not answering his cell phone. He was supposed to be here over an hour ago."

Brian looked up, his face white as a ghost. He suddenly remembered what Hunter had said, hours previously, before he had gone to Babylon and boozed, snorted, and fucked himself into an inebriated oblivion. "There's going to be another hit." 

Panic shot through him like a lightning bolt. No, not Justin. It couldn't be. Not again. The blood. He never could stand the sight of it. The way it oozed in a puddle all around him. The smell of it, thick and heavy. The scarf…..

He stood up quickly and grabbed Daphne's hand. "C'mon." He ordered, dragging her through the living room.

"Wait I need to get my jacket and I'm not wearing any shoes!" She whined.

"No time for that," he said, not letting go of his grip on her and pulled her through the door. 

....................................................................................

Emmett sat on a stool at Woody's, resting his crossed arms on the bar, as he stared pensively into his Cosmopolitan. He had set out to have a good time, hoping that being around people would cheer him up. Maybe he could leave behind some of the melancholy that took residence in his chest, making it seemingly harder to breathe. It hadn't worked though. The booming bass and buzz of idle chatter only forced him to draw farther inward, turning the dull ache into a burning agony. He missed Debbie so much and it made his insides twist up like a pretzel. A tear rolled down his cheek, then another, falling into the burgundy liquid causing a light ripple on its surface. He promised himself he wouldn't cry in public, but here he was, a big nelly queen, making a scene. A hand rested on his shoulder. He turned around quickly wiping his eyes with his hand. 

"Hi," Ted mumbled, shyly. "You look like you could use some company." Emmett turned his attention back to his drink and frowned. "Is it okay if I sit down?"

"It's not my bar, sit wherever you like." Ted sat down on a stool next to Emmett. 

“I heard about Debbie.” Emmett just nodded. “I tried to call Michael, to offer my condolences, but Ben said the he was sleeping.”

“He’s always sleeping, Teddy. Mikey is a vegetable. Ben is seriously considering putting him into a facility.”

“I’m an expert on facilities,” Ted quipped, but Emmett shot him a nasty glare. Neither said anything for a while. Ted picked at a paper napkin as both became acutely aware of the uncomfortable silence.

Finally Ted spoke, "Look, I know what I did to you was irreprehensible. It was a flagrant betrayal on my part and I don't blame you if you never forgive me." He looked over at Emmett's profile trying to steady his shaky voice. "But I just want you to know that I am deeply sorry, and if I could do it over again, I would, Em. Even if it meant never losing you."

"Spare me the 12-step pedantry. You didn't seem too sorry as you cozied up to Blair the other night at the diner."

"Blake," Ted corrected him.

Emmett shrugged. "Blair.....Blake....whatever."

"I honestly didn't mean for it to happen. He was my guidance counselor and he got me through some very rough patches in rehab. He was there when I needed someone the most."

"Yeah, well I was there too, Teddy," Emmett said with derision in his voice. "But it didn’t stop you from kicking me out, now did it?" 

Ted winced, as the silence reigned over them once again. He squirmed in his seat, trying to think of something to ease Emmett’s heartache. "I'm at a loss for words, Em. I don’t know what to say."

"That's because there's nothing left to say. I've learned to live without you, Teddy. I've cried my tears. I've buried you and I’ve grieved the loss. You can't go back and change what's already been done."

The words hit Ted, like a letter opener stabbing into his back. "Well, do you think we could still be friends?" Ted paused, trying to hide his painful expression. "I've missed you, Em."

"I don't know right now.” Emmett stated with ambivalence. “The only thing I do know is that I don't want to have this conversation anymore." He slid off the stool and briskly walked away.

Ted rubbed his face with his hands and sighed. He had to shake off this horrible feeling. He couldn't let Emmett get to him tonight. He had to stay calm and calculated. There was still too much work to be done.

...................................................................................................................

“What are we doing?” Daphne asked, waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green. She crossed her arms over her shoulders and bounced on the balls of her socked feet to keep warm. 

“We’re going to walk to my loft taking the same route that Justin does.”

“But you already called. We know he’s not there.”

“I know. Maybe we’ll run into him walking back to your apartment,” Brian mumbled sticking his hands deep into his leather jacket pockets and stared at his feet. 

Daphne cocked her head and frowned at Brian in a disapproving manner. “You honestly believe that?”

 

Brian shrugged. He felt stupid lying to Daphne, but he didn’t want to worry her more than she already was. Brian knew that if Justin had walked to the loft, and then been…..taken, then there might be some sort of clue or evidence left behind. Maybe Justin had dropped a pen or glove or some other tell-tale object. He seriously doubted that it would be that easy. Those kinds of things only happened on TV shows and cheap paperback mystery novels, but it was the closest thing to a logical idea he had at the moment. His head throbbed from lack of sleep and too much whisky. His body felt heavy and leaden. This theory would just have to do until he could think more clearly.

The light turned green and the pair crossed the street. 

………………………………………………………………………

Emmett traipsed in long strides down the sidewalk. He was pissed and hurt and he hated himself for letting that…that….Ted get to him all over again. His tear ducts stung from forcibly holding back the tears, but Emmett established that he was not going to give in to the water works. He was going to hold his head up high, goddamn it. 

Or maybe not. 

He dropped his head down and followed the cracks in the cement. Emmett suddenly realized that there was no one left to talk to. Ted had betrayed him, Mikey had the mind-set of a zucchini, Debbie was….gone, and Justin….

Emmett thought he saw something…no, maybe someone in the street, out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly, to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The body was still, lying face down, but Emmett recognized the mop of white hair and the light blue and black striped scarf immediately.

“Oh, my God,” he gasped clutching at his throat. He ran into the street, kneeling down next to Justin and put his hand on the blond’s back. “Sweetie, can you hear me?” There was no response. Emmett didn’t know what else do to. He tried to rack his brain for something he’d seen on ER or CSI, but lately the only thing he’d watched that had anything to do with the medical profession was General Hospital. He was doomed. Emmett decided to go with the old stand-by and checked for a pulse. He put his two fingers on the side of Justin’s neck and felt a small, rhythmic thump-thump. Then he put his head close to Justin’s face and thought he felt a breath. 

“Thank God,” he whispered realizing that Justin was still alive. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. After speaking to the nice operator who seemed much too calm and chipper for her own good, Emmett sat down next to Justin in the middle of the street and rubbed his back. “You’re going to be okay, sweetie. Just hold on for your Auntie Em. Hold on.”

Daphne noticed the man sitting next to the body in the middle of the barren street. It had been such an odd spectacle, like something out of a Fellini movie, that at first she thought she made the whole thing up in her head. She blinked, but the figures were still there. “Look,” she said to Brian motioning to the street. “That looks like Emmett.” 

Brian peered into the dark night and noticed the white tufts of hair sticking out of a black silhouette lying on the ground. “Fuck,” he murmured as he drowned in memories.

The sound of the bat cracking his skull reverberated in the parking lot – THWAP! The oily blood stained his fingers like a tattoo. “Please don’t die on me…..Please….”

“No way, is that…” Daphne didn’t have time to finish her sentence, because Brian had already taken off running.


	14. In Search of Clues

Justin heard the audible wailing of the ambulance siren somewhere far off in the distance. Its muddy reverberation crawled to the surface of his memory like wading through a soupy pile of paper towels. There were other voices as well, that turned into a cacophonous dance of movement all around. Yet, it clamored in his head with a sharp, swirly sense of vagueness that waved diaphanously like shadows against his eyelids. 

 

Justin instinctively lifted his hand and reached out with lethargic fingers probing for something familiar. “Brian,” he tried to mutter, but the sounds came out like gurgles from the sticky goo that coated his throat and tasted of metal. A hand clutched his and he clung to it desperately yearning for the contact to keep himself from falling into the cavernous abyss that seemed to cloister him. Snippets of memories like cut out paper dolls fluttered in and out – a rhythm of pulsating flashbacks. They spun by faster and faster until they were nothing but a blur of mottled colors. The sense of it made him dizzy. He had to open his eyes. 

 

Justin awoke startled by the piercing brightness of the fluorescent lights in the hospital room. His head throbbed and his chest ached every time he breathed in and out. He looked around, disoriented, and noticed Brian half bent over the hospital bed, dozing quietly. Justin tried to remove his hand from Brian’s vice-like grip, but he couldn’t break free. 

“Brian,” he spoke softly, his mouth stinging from the pressure of his words. He touched his lips with his other hand and realized that his bottom lip was torn and swollen. “Where the hell am I?”

Brian sat up and yawned. “You’re in the hospital, Sunshine. Didn’t your mother ever warn you to look both ways before you crossed the street?”

Justin paused and blearily blinked a few times. “I got ran over?” It was more of a slightly stupefied statement than a question

Brian winced. “Yeah. How are you feeling?” 

“It hurts when I breathe.”

“You cracked two ribs and you have a concussion.”

“That’s explains why I feel so dizzy and nauseous. How long have I been out?”

“Only a few hours. The doc said the impact of the car knocked you out. You’re damn lucky Emmett found you when he did,” Brian explained, with a pained expression on his face.

“Emmett?” Justin asked, confused and instinctively rubbed his neck with his free hand.

Brian noticed the slight gesture and he secretly wondered if something had happened between the two of them. He decided to store that line of questioning away for a time when Justin was feeling better. “He found you lying in the middle of the road.”

“Oh….” Justin jogged his brain for some sort of coherent stream of memory, but he could only conjure up small pulses of phrases and colors. A sense of confusion and nausea rolled through him. “Where’s my mom?” He asked suddenly. Right now he could use a little motherly affection.

“She’s downstairs in the cafeteria with Emmett and Daphne.” He looked over at him with an expression of worry that made Justin uncomfortable.

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Like you’re worried about me or something.”

 

Brian noticed the blond’s labored breathing, but tried not to let it show on his face. “I’m not allowed to have concern for my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend’s here too? When do I get to meet him?”

Brian rolled his eyes and then leaned over and kissed Justin on the forehead. “Shut up.”

“Um…Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you let go of my hand now?” 

Surprised, Brian looked down at their entangled fingers. His hand seem to reject the impulse, but he eventually released Justin’s hand, feeling the prickly needle-like sensation shoot through his fingers as he tried to shake it out. “I’m going to get the doctor and tell him you’re awake. Are you going to be okay by yourself for a few minutes?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“If not, I’ll call your mom on the cell before I leave.”

“Brian, go. I’m okay.”

“Do you need anything? Are you comfortable?” Brian asked as he got up from the chair and stretched.

“Would you stop doting on me, already? Are you sure you’re not the one who got hit on the head?” 

Brian chuckled. “Don’t be such a shit.” He lightly brushed Justin’s swollen lip with his and rubbed his nose in an Eskimo kiss. “I’ll be right back.” 

…………………………………………..

Emmett, Daphne and Jennifer huddled together around a small cafeteria table with Styrofoam cups of coffee warming their hands. The group seemed collectively worn out and frazzled around the edges. The night’s drama had cast circles around their eyes and their bodies drooped like there were sandbags on their shoulders.

Daphne let out a long drawn-out yawn, then she let her head drop down on the table, still holding the cup in her hand. “I’m sorry you guys…I’m just so tired.”

Jennifer rubbed Daphne’s back soothing her. “It’s okay sweetie, you’ve been through a lot. Why don’t you go home? We’ll call you if there’s any news.”

She sat up straight and tried to compose herself. “No, I mean…What if he doesn’t wake up?”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, honey. That’s my job,” Emmett joked and took a sip of his coffee.

“He’s going to be fine, Daphne. This is nothing compared to last time.”

Emmett looked over at Jennifer with great respect. “You are being so brave about all of this.”

“He’s a resilient young man. I don’t have any doubt he’s going to pull through. I just hope they catch the bastard who did this. That’s what concerns me. That there are hateful people in the world with little tolerance and understanding.”

“It’s not lady-like to talk about me about me behind my back, Jennifer,” Brian said, sarcastically as he sat down in a plastic chair next to her. 

“How is he?” Daphne asked, her voice quivering. 

“He’s awake. The doctor’s taking a look at him right now.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Jennifer exclaimed in excited relief and stood up hastily. “I’m going to go up and see him.”

“That’s a good idea. He asked for you in so many words. Justin is too stubborn to admit it, but I think he needs you right now.” 

Jennifer surprised Brian by hugging him tightly. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her to lightly hug her back. “Thank you,” she said softly in his ear.

“For what?”

“For loving my son. For taking care of him.” Brian bit his lip and didn’t say anything in return. She released her embrace, kissed him on the cheek and then walked toward the elevator.”

“Wow,” Daphne said, in awe. “Welcome to the family.”

………………………………………………

Detective Cooper walked into Justin’s hospital room, quieting its inhabitants with his presence. “Good morning,” he said a little too loudly as he noticed that all eyes were on him. He decided to put aside all pleasantries and get straight to business. “I’m going to need statements from anyone who was at the scene, but first, I want to speak to Mr. Taylor alone.”

“I’d like to stay,” Brian said, sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed. He felt a ferocious territorial desire to protect Justin and he didn’t want to leave his side.

“It’s fine with me, as long as it’s okay with Mr. Taylor.”

“It’s fine.” 

“Alright, but if you need anything, just call,” Jennifer said from her chair on the other side of Justin. “I’m going to be waiting right outside the door.” She stood up and looked over at Daphne and Emmett who were quietly whispering to each other in a corner of the room, throwing furtive glances at Detective Cooper.

“Daph and I are going to go down to the second floor to visit Vic. We’ll be in room 208 when you need us,” Emmett said to the detective as he eyed him from head to toe, his gaze lingering on Cooper’s basket. There was something sexy about the detective that he hadn’t noticed before

“Please call me on my cell if you go anywhere, so I know where to find you.” Cooper pulled out a business card from the pocket of his grey suit. Emmett took the card and intentionally grazed Cooper’s fingers. 

“I’ll be sure and do that,” Emmett said coyly, and licked his lips. 

Brian glanced over at Justin and rolled his eyes. “Get a room.” Justin tried to stifle a laugh. 

 

 

Jennifer cleared her throat loudly. “You two can flirt with each other another time.” She gently nudged Emmett by the elbow. “C’mon, Casanova.” Daphne looked over at Justin wide-eyed and smiling. She waved goodbye as the trio walked together out of the hospital room.

Cooper straightened himself up, pulling at his suit coat, trying to get the blood to rush back to his other head. He sat down in Jennifer’s vacant seat, then took out a pen and small notepad from the inside lining of his jacket. He asked Justin a series of questions about what happened leading up to the accident. Brian filled in most of the holes as to his whereabouts. 

“What about when you got hit? Did you see the make or color of the car?”

“No, it came up on me too fast. It might have been silver, but it’s kind of a blur,” Justin said suddenly feeling dizzy. “There was something familiar about the person though. Like it was someone I knew.”

“What do you mean?” Brian asked, biting his lip.

“I just remember being really shocked. I think I might have hit the windshield.” Justin scrunched his face in contemplation. “There was something familiar about the person in the driver’s seat...”

“Can you try and remember anything about this person?” Cooper asked.

Justin focused for a moment trying to recall more details, but he could only conjure up the feeling of his face smashing into the windshield. He winced and closed his eyes. Brian tried to grab his hand but Justin brushed it away. He opened his eyes again. “I don’t know. It’s still too fuzzy.”

“That’s normal,” Cooper said to Justin, noticing Brian’s concerned look. “You had a pretty good blow to the head and considering your past medical history, it may take a little longer for full memory recall. Just make sure you call me when you start to remember anything.”

……………………………………………..

Emmett and Daphne opted to take their time getting to Vic’s room. They went down to the cafeteria and got a snack, then did a languid lap around the second floor.

“You like him, don’t you?” Daphne asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 

“Who?”

Daphne playfully swatted Emmett’s arm. “You know who. Don’t play coy with me.”

“Yes! I do. Isn’t he a dream boat?”

“He’s pretty cute.”

“I feel kind of guilty, though. I mean thinking about sex at a time like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, with Debbie’s death, and Vic in the hospital, and now Justin. It just seems inappropriate.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong. You should definitely ask him out on a date… Or whatever you guys do.”

“I’ve never dated a detective before….,” Emmett sighed, thinking about Cooper’s tousled dark hair. “Oh, never mind, I can’t dwell on that right now. We’d better check on Vic.”

Daphne nodded and the pair walked over to the nurses’ station. “May I help you?” asked a tall blonde nurse whose hair was pulled back in a long braid.

“We’re here to visit Vic Grassi. I’m just making sure it’s okay to see him,” Emmett said, politely.

The nurse smiled brightly, “He’s very popular for someone in a coma. He has another visitor right now, but you are welcome to go in and take a look.”

“Thanks,” Emmett said, quietly. Something didn’t feel right. He turned to Daphne. “I wonder who it is. Mel and Linds said they couldn’t come in until this afternoon because of Gus.”

“Maybe it’s Rodney,” Daphne concluded.

“Oh yeah, I never thought of that,” Emmett said, feeling a little more relaxed. 

They walked over to the room and Emmett found it odd that the door was closed. Every time that he had been there before, the nurses had made a point to keep it open. 

Daphne looked over at him noticing his confusion. “What’s wrong?” She asked, quietly. 

“The door is closed,” he answered almost in a whisper.

Daphne shrugged. “So what?”

“So…it’s just….weird.” The both stood for a moment a few paces back from Room 208.

“Well, are we going to go in?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who’s in there.”

Daphne saw a small rectangular window at the top of the door. “Peek through the glass,” she said pointing and feeling slightly stupid.

Emmett slowly moved toward the door and peeked inside. He recognized the dark haired man immediately. He turned to Daphne and motioned her over. “It’s Teddy. What should we do?” He whispered.

“I don’t know. Are you still mad at him?” Daphne whispered back.

“We got into a fight last night.”

“Oh well, then let’s go back and wait for Detective Cooper. We can visit Vic later.”

“Okay..hold on… I just want to take another look.” He spied into the window and watched Ted talking to Vic’s still body. His face was contorted in what seemed like rage and his eyes bugged out of his head like he was high. Ted pulled a small bottle of liquid out of his jacket pocket that looked like a prescription of some sort. He searched the drawers and cupboards of the room until he found what he was looking for. He tore a sterilized syringe from its package then stuck the metal needle into the hole in the rubber top of the bottle. He inserted the needle into the small opening of Vic’s IV tube.

“Oh my God,” Emmett whispered as the chills surged down his back and fanned out across his torso. He glanced at Daphne trying to remain calm. “Honey, go and get Detective Cooper, pronto. Tell him it’s an emergency!”

Daphne saw the panic in Emmett’s eyes and noticed the shakiness of his voice. She didn’t say anything, but turned and ran down the hall.

Emmett looked into the window one more time. Ted turned around and locked eyes with him, then smiled.


	15. In Search of Clues

Detective Cooper sensed the nervous energy in the air. He studied the starkness of Justin's already pale face and decided it was time to change the subject. The kid didn’t seem to remember much about the accident and there was no sense in trying to badger it out him. Justin had been through enough and his...friend didn’t seem to be doing too well either. The lines of worry creased Brian’s face like a wrinkled shirt.

“I think that’s all the questions for now, gentlemen. Like I said earlier, let me know if you remember anything.” Cooper lifted himself out of his chair. 

"What's going on with the case, detective?" Brian asked.

"Thanks to Horvath, I have the results of the autopsy and toxicology screen in my car.”

“What about the “Pittsburgh Out” office. Any leads?”

“Yes and no.” Brian stared at him with expectation. “You two have been through a lot. Maybe we should discuss this another time."

"There isn't any time," Brian sneered. “I don’t want any more people getting hurt.”

Cooper directed his attention to Justin. “Are you okay to deal with this right now?”

“I’m fine,” Justin said, a little too firmly. 

Cooper sighed. He didn’t think this was an appropriate time to talk about the case, but he understood the pairs’ determination. "Okay, then I'll be right back." He walked out of the hospital room and an eerie quiet prevailed.

Brian bit as thumb and fidgeted while Justin closed his eyes and tried to quell the queasiness in his stomach. He had almost succeeded when Brian spoke, "I want you to come home with me when they discharge you."

Justin turned his head toward Brian. "What for?"

Brian raised his eyebrow, and tried to contain his anger, "It’s not safe for you to be by yourself."

Justin looked over at Brian. "I'll be fine.” 

Brian got up from his seat to pace, but there wasn't enough space in the tiny room, so he walked a few steps, pivoted and turned toward Justin, who had closed his eyes again. “Justin, someone tried to fucking kill you” 

“I know, but I don’t need you to save me this time. So quit the super-hero routine. I said I’ll be fine.” 

Brian put his hand on his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose. Right now he wanted to strangle the insubordinate little twat for being so stubborn. “Why are you being such a shit?”

“Because I know what you’re trying to do: the doting, the hand-holding, and the taking care of me. You don't need to make up for lost time, Brian. I forgave you a long time ago for not coming to see me at the hospital after the bashing.”

Brian cringed and rubbed his hands over his face. How could he explain to Justin about those late nights, standing in the hallway of the hospital, staring into the tiny window? How could he explain the awful regret he carried with him for so many months afterward. The truth was, he couldn’t, because if he went down that particular stream of consciousness, then it turned his whole life into a series of trip wires and mind fields. Little bombs of pain, regret, shame and horror that could go off at any given moment and explode in his face, leaving a wreckage that could only be erased with lots of booze, pills and fucking. Still, he heard the words tumble out, before his brain could sensor it. “I came to see you every night, Justin.” He paused, and took a breath. “But that’s not why I’m here now.”

“I know,” Justin said, quietly still staring up at the ceiling. He knew why Brian was there, but knowing didn’t make anything feel better. It only made things worse. "Do you remember what you said to me on the phone the day we found Debbie in the dumpster?"

"No." Justin noticed the strain in Brian’s voice and knew he was lying. 

"You told me you loved me.” Brian flinched and put his head down staring at the tips of his shoes. “I know you said it out of fear, and that if it weren’t for...what happened, you probably would have never said it.” He paused and wiped a few stray hairs out of his eyes. “I know you love me, Brian. It’s evident in everything you do, and I didn’t want to hear it like that. You were so afraid and desperate. That’s not us. We don’t stay together because we’re afraid. We stay together because we want to and we leave when we want to. So, I want you to take it back. ”

Brian looked up. "I can't take it back. You can't run away from it. I said it. It's done.”

“Did you mean it?” It was a rhetorical question, and it hung in the air like a giant helium balloon that no one wanted to touch. Brian grimaced, and turned away, staring at the door. It would be so easy to walk away right now and never look back, and for a moment he thought he knew what Justin had felt like as he left the Rage Party, holding hands, with Ethan. It was a swirly sense of hurt and rejection. A fight or flight impulse that wouldn’t decease until he felt the coolness of air on his face. To get away from the source of all pain and the stupidity. The complicated web of past, present and future that spindled around him and made him weak. 

He couldn’t do it though. He couldn’t walk away. Not now. There was too much history, too much invested, and if he really wanted to be honest with himself, he didn’t know how to live his life without Justin. That was too much truth though, at least for now. So, Brian took the vial of white powder out of his jacket pocket and sniffed loudly. 

“Justin?”

“What?”

"Was it Emmett?"

Justin tensed as a wave of anxiety washed over him, but he kept his voice even. "What are you talking about?"

Brian rubbed the back of his neck, "Don't play stupid. You know what the fuck I’m talking about."

“I’m not in the mood for deciphering cryptic Briansims. I have a headache.”

"Did you fuck Emmett?" 

"It's none of your business." 

Justin was right. It wasn’t Brian’s business. They weren’t a happy hetro couple, and they made no promises to each other, but the smugness of Justin’s answer still pissed him off. 

Brian turned around. "Justin, I don't care if you fucked..."

"I didn't fuck him. He gave me a very painful blowjob. It was after you told me about Debbie." Brian scowled and bit his lip. "It's not a big deal."

“I guess, I’m not the only who’s lost their mind.” 

Justin scowled. “Touché.”

“Are you and Emmett...?" The idea was ludicrous to even consider, but Brian couldn't stop himself. His insecurities seemed to be getting the better of him lately. 

Justin lifted his head and furrowed his brow. "You've got to be kidding. I'm not even going to acknowledge that with an answer." He let his head fall back on the pillow. Brian sat down in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and sighed with relief. “Is that why you were crank calling me? To see if I had run away...” He couldn’t finish the sentence with a straight face and started to laugh. “...with Emmett?”

“I didn’t crank call you.” 

“The caller ID doesn’t lie. Besides I heard your patented Kinney wheeze.”

“When?”

“Last night. You called like six times.”

“It wasn’t me. I was busy up until I went to talk to Ben. Then from there, I went straight to Babylon.”

Justin chuckled, “Is “busy” the new code word for fucking everything that moves?” Brian shrugged. Who he fucked was the least of his worries, now. Who the fuck was tapping his phones? “So, you didn’t call me.”

“I just fucking said, I didn’t,” Brian said, frustrated. Justin reached over and lightly brushed the side of Brian’s arm.

“Hey, we’ll get through this.”

“Will we? I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Before Justin could answer, Detective Cooper walked in the door carrying a bundle of papers and file folders. He sat back down and surveyed the mood in the room. “What’s going on?”

Brian answered, “Where do I start?”


	16. In Search of Clues

Detective Cooper listened to Brian and Justin intently, as they pieced together the events of the night before. He sat down in his chair and placed the file folders that he was carrying on his lap.

"Let me get this straight," he said to Brian as he pointed to Justin. "You never called him.” 

"No."

"But the number on the caller ID was yours?"

"Yes," Brian stated, emphatically. "What the fuck does this mean?"

"Well, it's easy enough to tap into someone's phone line, but you have to have access to the jack or the call box. I'll have someone look at the call box near the loft to see if there’s any indication of tampering. In the meantime, I don't think it's safe for either one of you to go back home."

"Where the fuck would you like us to go?" Brian asked, warily.

"I'd like to set you up in a hotel room with 24 hour surveillance. Are there any other blonds you know who are related or close to you?"

"Lindsay, the mother of my kid," Brian said and raked his fingers through his hair.

"My mom," Justin added.

"Cynthia."

"They'll need to be under security as well. I don't want to take any chances. This is becoming too personal, and all the evidence shows that these are deliberate acts toward your loved ones, to get back at you in some way.”

“This should go over well,” Brian, murmured. 

“Melanie is going to have your balls.” 

Brian looked down at the ground and nodded, absent-mindedly. “Detective Cooper, what about the idea of a ransom?”

Cooper sized up Brian immediately. He knew where the man was going with this line of questioning, but he decided to play the game anyway. “It’s an interesting theory. Why?”

Brian hesitated. He felt he needed to explain to Cooper about the "conversation" he had with Hunter, but at the same time, he didn't want to incriminate the kid. Yeah, the little fucker was a nuisance, but if he was black mailed into helping trash Debbie's house by Vic, then he couldn't blame the kid. "There are some things that I found out last night, but I can't tell you unless it's strictly off the record."

"I can't do that," Cooper said, thumbing the file folders in his lap. 

"What are you talking about?" Justin asked. "I thought you were out trolling last night."

Brian grimaced. "I told you, I went to talk with Ben and Hunter."

"Don't tell me,” Justin said, sarcastically. "Hunter has something to do with this." Brian didn't say anything, but Justin knew that Brian's sudden aversion of eye contact meant that he was right. "Fuck, Brian. Why are you sticking up for that twat?"

"Will you shut up," Brian growled. 

Exasperated, Justin sighed loudly and turned his head away. 

"So?" Detective Cooper asked. "What's on your mind Mr. Kinney?"

 

"Nothing," Brian said, stubbornly. He was going to spare the kid, and little twat was going to owe him big time. "Forget it.”

It was time to bring out the big guns. Brian wasn’t going to break, but that didn’t mean that Detective Cooper wasn’t going to get his lead. "Considering all the evidence, a ransom note is a far-fetched idea at best, but it could scare a 16 year old prostitute into trashing the victim’s house." 

"Is that speculation?" Brian asked, playing dumb.

"Don't fuck with me Mr. Kinney. I know who Hunter is. I know he was the one who trashed Mrs. Novotny’s house. I know he was most likely put up to it by Mr. Grassi, after Mrs. Novotny was taken. We got two decent fingerprint lifts, and forensics matched it up to their database. Lo and behold, your little friend, James, has a record for hustling. So, there’s no point in protecting him. He’s up shit creek any way you want to look at. Now, would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”

Justin mouth dropped open, in shock, and then glee. It wasn’t very often that someone put Brian in his place. He let out a spastic laugh. Brian glared in his general direction, then spoke. “The littlest kidnapper said that Vic blackmailed him into drugging Debbie. There were pictures that Vic showed him of Ben and Michael. They were being followed. Hunter was told that if he didn’t comply with everything, his new daddies would be killed.”

“Do you think Vic killed Debbie, and wrote those letters?” Justin asked.

“No.” Brian answered. “Hunter said that Vic was following orders from someone else..”

“Mrs. Novotny’s murder was an accident,” Detective Cooper stated.

“What about the letter opener in her back?” 

“It was a cover-up. The toxicology screen showed that she died from respitory depression brought on by a drug overdose – Rohypnol, 4 milligrams. That’s the equivalent of two tablets. Forensics found five more in a bottle of Tylenol on the kitchen counter. Rohypnol is 7-10 times stronger than valium, but a lethal dose is usually somewhere in the vicinity of 10 mg or 5 tablets.”

“So, it was a scare tactic that went wrong,” Justin mumbled, thinking out loud.

“Yes,” Detective Cooper said. “It was probably Vic who gave her the pills, to sedate her just enough to kidnap her.”

“Hunter said he waited with another man for a call from Vic. Then he helped put Debbie in the back seat, and was told to wreck the house,” Brian added.

“So, you think Vic tried to commit suicide out of guilt?”

“Most likely,” Detective Cooper said. “But we won’t have any conclusive answers until he comes out of his coma.”

 

“What about the letters? Did you find any fingerprints?”

“Yes, there were fingerprints, but nothing we could use. They had been man-handled so much before given to forensics, that there was nothing speculative.”

“Fuck, who is this bastard?” Brian, asked, in frustration.

“I wish I knew. The only thing I can tell you is that it’s someone close to you. Someone who knows your habits, the way you think, and how to manipulate those around you.”

“It’s probably Michael,” Justin snarked. Brian shot him a warning glare and Justin decided it was time to change the subject. “Incidentally, what happened with the ad at the “Pittsburgh Out” office?”

“Funny you should mention that. It was another clue, you failed to track down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the receptionist looked in her records to see who had placed the ad. The name on the account was “Debbie Novotny”...”

Suddenly the door flew open and Daphne ran in, panic-stricken. “Detective Cooper!” she said between breaths. “Come quick! 

“What’s going on?”

“Emmett saw Ted downstairs. I think he was doing something to Vic.”

“Ted?” Brian asked, confused.

“Ted,” Justin mimicked, pensively. Something was free floating in his brain. A thought. An idea. Maybe a memory.”

“Are you sure?” Detective Cooper asked.

“Yes,” Daphne said, anxiously. “Emmett watched through the pane of glass in the door.”

Justin recalled thinking about Ted when he hit the windshield. Why was he thinking about Ted? Had he seen Ted? 

“What did he see?” Cooper asked.

“I don’t know,” Daphne answered. 

 

Yes. Justin saw Ted through the windshield. He felt a flash of anxiety rush through his body like ice and he shivered. “He ran me over.”

“What?” Brian asked, as he jerked his head around.

“Ted hit me.”

“You’ve fucking lost it. Theodore Schmidt, the loser? There’s no way he could have planned this.”

“Okay, but he did.”

“I think you’ve hit your head one too many times, Sunshine.”

“I’m telling you Ted fucking hit me!”

“Alright, alright. Calm down.”

“Could we hurry this up. Emmett’s downstairs all by himself,” Daphne protested.

Detective Cooper stood up. “Stay here with Justin. I’ll go and question this Ted guy.” Then he hurriedly, walked out of room with Daphne. 

Fifteen minutes later, Cooper barged into Justin’s room, flushed and winded. “Did anyone come in here?”

“No, why?” Justin asked.

“Vic’s dead, and Emmett is missing.”


	17. In Search of Clues

Justin squirmed in his hospital bed, like a petulant child. "I'm not staying here, Brian. I want to go with you."

"This is the safest place for you to be right now. I don't want to take any chances."

"I'm fine."

"So, you keep telling me, but you're doctor thinks otherwise."

"There will be two policeman outside your door at all times," Detective Cooper added. "No one is allowed in your room except for the hospital staff and immediate family."

"Wonderful," Justin grumbled, sarcastically. "I'm in lockdown."

"Sorry kid, we can't take any chances." Cooper said, sympathetically. “Not after what happened to Mr. Grassi.”

....

Daphne sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the cafeteria as the police officer took her statement. When they were done, she bounced her knee nervously waiting for Brian to take her home.

"What was in that bottle they found in Vic’s room?" she asked the police officer. 

"Morphine. Hospital Grade."

"Oh," Daphne, said, sullenly and shuddered. So, Ted really was out to kill Vic with a very lethal overdose of Morphine, straight from the IV into his veins. Her mind began to race and curiosity got the better of her. "Would someone be able to buy that on the streets?"

"Not likely. The perp probably has an inside connection."

"You mean, like, he'd have to know someone who worked in a hospital?"

"Yes, a physician or an RN."

"What about a throat and ear doctor? Would they have access to Morphine?"

"Yes. Why?"

Daphne tried to shrug, nonchalantly, even though on the inside she was freaking out. "Just wondering." She put her hands together in her lap and tried to remain calm. 

She had a hunch and she needed to talk to someone pronto. 

Where the fuck was Brian?

....

Emmett woke up, startled and cold. He looked around his surroundings and realized that he was curled up on a warehouse floor. He tried to sit up, but his hands were tied in front of him and his feet were bound.

"Help!" he screamed, panic stricken. "Somebody! Help me!"

Emmett jerked his head as he heard footsteps ascending slowly toward him. Ted stood over him, and smiled.

"Thank God, it's you, Teddy. Some psycho tied me up and left me here." He held his hands up to Ted and looked around in disgust. "Where the hell am I, anyway?"

"Em, you are a piece of work." Ted said, and then laughed a little too much like a loon, for Emmett’s taste. He looked down and realized that Ted wasn't untying him. 

"You're not going to untie me?"

"Now, why would I go and do that? Since I’m the one who tied you up in the first place."

"You?"

"Silly, queen, don't you remember anything?"

"What are you talking about?" Emmett said, distracted, and put his hand in his lap.

"The hospital? Vic?"

"Huh?" Emmett asked. 

"I drug you with a Rohypnol and suddenly you have the memory of a fish."

"Rohypnol? When did you..."

Ted was becoming frustrated, "You don't remember me forcing a pill down your throat at gunpoint?"

"No honey, why would you do something like that?”

"Em, I drugged you. I tied you up, and now you're my hostage. The least you could do is act a little afraid."

"Why? It's just you, Teddy. Now, stop the charades, and just untie me."

Ted reached in his back pocket, pulled out a gun and pushed the barrel in between Emmett's eyes. "Do you believe me now, faggot!!"

Frozen in shock, Emmett whimpered.

...

It had only been a few minutes since Brian and Detective Cooper had left, but Justin was already antsy. There was no way he was going to stay in the stupid hospital room, when Emmett was missing, and Ted… That bastard Ted. Who knew what he was capable of…and if he had Emmett….

Justin clumsily shifted himself out of the bed, and stood up. The room went spinning, and then dipped, so he grabbed the railing to keep himself from falling. After a few minutes the dizziness subsided. He rummaged around the room, trying to remember where Brian had put his cell phone, and went through every drawer and cupboard.

No luck. 

Justin sat down in one of the chairs that cluttered his room, picked up the hospital phone and dialed. 

Daphne answered on the first ring. “Brian?”

“No.”

“Justin. Where the hell is Brian? He’s supposed to be taking me home.” She got up and walked toward a vending machine, under the reproachful of the police officer. 

“They left a few minutes ago. Cooper’s going down to the precinct, and I guess Brian is going to meet him there after he takes you home. When he drops you off, you’ve got to come back and get me.”

“No, way, Justin! Do you know how much trouble I’ll get into,” she almost whispered, staring down at the floor, with her back turned to the officer. “Besides, how are you going to get past the two guards at the door?”

“Leave that up to me.”

“Then where am I going to take you IF you get out of here.”

“We’re going to go find Emmett.”

“We?”

“You and me. I’ve got a hunch that might lead us to Em.”

“What about Brian?”

“What about him?”

“We’ve got to tell him.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?

“Just because.” He paused, exasperated. “I just don’t want to deal with his over-bearingness right now.”

“He’s only that way because he loves you.”

“I don’t want to argue with you. Look, when he drops you off, come straight back here, I’ll be waiting outside.”

Daphne exhaled, loudly. “Fine, but I think this is a really bad idea.”

“I’ll see you in a little while,” and with that he hung up.

Daphne pressed the end button and turned around. She gasped, when she saw who was standing behind her and fell against the vending machine. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” Brian growled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck is going on?

….

Detective Cooper leaned back in his chair and tapped a pencil on the edge of the desk. It was mid afternoon, and he still had so much to do on this case, but he was already exhausted. 

Mr. Honeycutt was missing, and if he didn’t come up something quick, he feared that the over-the-top-queen would be the next person on the hit list. It seemed these murders were random and not too well thought out, and this guy Ted, had a way of fucking things up.

The woman, Mrs. Novotny was a cover-up for an accidental over dose. The man in the coma, Mr. Grassi, Cooper suspected had been killed to keep him from talking. He must have known too much.

Now Mr. Honeycutt, but at least the kid was okay, locked up safely in his hospital room.

This Ted guy was inept, but elusive. He knew just enough to cover his tracks, and keep everyone guessing. It was maddening. 

The only lead he had was some guy named Blake who worked at a rehab center. He and Ted were supposedly dating.

Cooper stood, yawned and stretched. It was time to pay this Blake guy and visit, and get some answers. This Ted guy needed to be stopped, and he was beginning to piss Cooper off. 

He had to find Emmett alive, if not just for the fact, that it was probably the only way he was ever going to get laid in this lifetime. 

Yes, dick was always a major motivation.

….

Justin ducked behind a large tree, with his hands wrapped around chest. It was cold outside, his head throbbed, and his lip felt like it was ripping apart. Plus, he wasn’t able to bring any of his clothes, so he was dressed in his hospital gown, and his backside was somewhat exposed.

After, what seemed like forever, he spotted Daphne’s car. He jetted from behind the tree and waved his arms, frantically in the air. The car halted at the sidewalk and he made a beeline straight for the door.

Justin threw open the passenger door as fast as he could, and then stopped dead in his tracks when he realized who was driving. His heart lept and he knew he was in deep shit.

“Well, aren’t you going to get in?” Brian said evenly, looking over at Justin.

“Fuck, “Justin muttered, and scrambled into the car.

Daphne poked her head out from the backseat, looking guilty. “Sorry.” Justin gave her a look like she was Benedict Arnold. “I didn’t tell him, I swear!” she said, abruptly trying to explain. “He caught me talking to you on the phone.”

“And it’s a good thing I did. How in hell do you think you’re going to get away with this?”

“I just did, didn’t I?” Justin said, smugly as he turned to Brian and smiled. 

Brian glanced over at Justin and smirked. The kid was a tenacious little fucker. 

“What the fuck took you so long? I almost froze my ass off out there.”

“Brian drove me to the apartment, but I wouldn’t get out of the car. So, we drove back.” Justin laughed. 

Brian grimaced. “So, Wonder Twins, what the fuck is the plan?” 

“First, I need to get some clothes.” Justin said.

“Done!” Daphne exclaimed, and handed over Justin’s duffle bag from the back seat.

“Do you always keep clothes of mine in the back of your car? Should I be scared?”

“No, dummy, when you first were admitted, you mom asked me to get you some clothes because the ones you were wearing were all bloody.”

Brian flinched. “Look, you got clothes. Now where the fuck are we going? I’m driving around in circles, here.”

“Go to Michael’s.” Justin said. Brian looked over, confused. 

Justin reached over and grabbed Brian’s hand. “Trust me.”

“Oh!” Daphne said, in realization. 

Justin turned toward Daphne. “You know what I’m thinking?”

“Dr. Mark. I figured it out too, from the Morphine. Hunter, right?”

“You’re good!” he said, impressed. 

“Who the fuck is Dr. Mark?” Brian asked, getting pissed off that he had no clue.

“Ted’s dealer, he’s an ear and throat doctor.”

“Yeah,” Daphne said, “He’d have access to all kind of drugs like Morphine and Rohypnol. He probably the one who’s been giving Ted the drugs to kill Debbie and Vic.”

“Rohypnol is illegal in the United States.” 

“Yes, but he’d more than likely have contacts out of country. You know, other doctors and stuff,” Daphne stated.

“So, Ted sent the letters and blackmailed Vic into helping kidnap Debbie. Then Vic blackmailed Hunter?”

“No, I think Ted forced Vic into blackmailing Hunter. Vic could never do that on his own,” Justin clarified. “But Vic did give Debbie the Rohypnol that Ted got from Dr. Mark. Hunter and some other guy helped kidnap Debbie.”

“Who was this other guy?” Brian asked.

“Probably one of Dr. Mark’s crystal queens. They’ll do anything for blow,” Daphne stated. 

Brian gave her a confused look. He’d never heard her talk like that. “What? Emmett likes to gossip.”

“Cooper said that Debbie’s death was an accident. Ted wasn’t counting on Debbie having such an extreme reaction to the Rohypnol.” Brian said.

“Yep. So, Ted put her in the dumpster as a scare tactic. Then he tapped your phone, ran me over, then went to the hospital with the Morphine he got from Dr. Mark to kill Vic.”

“Only he didn’t realize that Emmett was watching him through the window,” Daphne explained. “So, he kidnapped him, but he didn’t realize that I was there too. Hopefully, we are one step ahead of him.”

“He has to have a hideout somewhere. A private piece of property up in the hills or an empty building. Somewhere he could go without being caught,” Brian said, pensively.

“That’s why we need to talk to Hunter,” Justin stated

….

Detective Cooper followed the woman from the front desk down a hallway into a small office. Blake offered Cooper a chair. 

“How can I help you, Mr. Cooper?”

“I have some questions about Ted Schmidt.”

“Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“He’s a suspect in two murders, and a possible kidnapping.”

“Ted?” Blake asked, incredulously. “Are you sure were talking about the same guy?”

Detective Cooper pulled a picture of Ted and a notepad out of his side jacket pocket. He handed the picture to Blake.

Blake looked up in shock. “Oh my God.” 

“Do you know Emmett Honeycutt?”

“Yeah, he’s Ted’s best friend. I mean, they dated for awhile, but they broke up.”

“Amicably.”

“No, not really. He and Emmett had an argument Woody’s the other night. Ted was really shook up about it.”

Cooper grabbed a pen from his breast pocket and scribbled on his notepad.

“Has Ted contacted you recently?”

“No. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. He said he needed some space to think about some things.”

“Does he own any private properties or have access to any exclusive buildings where he could take someone.”

“No, not that I’m aware of. I wish I could be more help.”

Cooper asked a few more questions, but he realized he was getting nowhere. He stood up and shook hands with Blake, then walked out of the office. He got halfway down the hall before he realized that he left the picture of Ted on Blake’s desk, so he turned around to go back and retrieve it. He was just about to turn the corner when he heard Blake on the phone. 

“That fuckin’ cop was here asking all kinds of questions. What do I do?...Ok…Alright…I’ll be down there in twenty minutes.” 

Cooper hurried down the hall and ducked into an empty office, shutting the door. He heard Blake pass by, hurriedly. He opened the door and waiting until he saw Blake go out the front door. He ran to his car, and watched Blake pull out of the driveway, then got in and followed behind him.

…

Ben was surprised to find, Brian, Daphne, and Justin standing in the hallway when he opened the door.

Ben noticed Justin still wearing the hospital gown. “Did you break him out of the hospital?” he asked Brian. 

“I broke myself out, thank you very much,” Justin said, haughtily. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“You know where it is,” Ben said. Brian handed Justin the duffle bag and watched as the blond gingerly walked to the bathroom, grasping on things for balance as he went along. Ben registered the worry on Brian’s face. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.” Brian said as he came into the house. Daphne followed after him.

“He says he’s fine,” Daphne insisted.

“And you believe that?” Ben asked.

 

“Justin is stubborn, and he’s going to do what he wants, no matter what anyone says. He’ll ask for help if he needs it.” Brian glared at her, like she was crazy. “He’s my best friend; I know what I’m talking about.” She plopped herself down on the couch. Brian crossed his arms across his chest and waited for Justin to come out of the bathroom.

“So, what’s up? Why did Justin break out of the hospital?’ Ben asked

 

“Emmett’s been kidnapped and Vic’s….” He suddenly grew pale and diverted his eyes from Ben. In the midst the day’s drama, no one had remembered to tell Ben or Michael about Vic.

“What happened to Uncle Vic?” Brian jerked around quickly. Michael was leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom in a Captain Astro T-shirt and a pair of boxers. He looked weary and had circles under his eyes.

“Hey, Michael.” Brian murmured quietly and bit his lip.

Ben started to tear up and tried to stifle a sob. This was the first time he had seen Michael out of bed in a long time.

“What happened to Uncle Vic?” Michael repeated.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s dead, Michael.”

“Who?” Michael said, coldly. “Who did it?”

Justin came out of the bathroom in a white t-shirt and a grey pair of sweats, and made his way to the couch to sit next to Daphne, who was trying to hold back the tears. 

“Ted,” Brian stated, quietly.

“Did he kill, Ma too?”

Nobody answered.

“Well did he?”

“We think so,” Brian said, quietly.

“Hunter!!” Michael yelled loudly, stomped into the living room, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

“What?” Hunter asked, poking his head out of the room.

“Get out here, now!!”

“Christ, you don’t have to yell,” he said, and strutted into the living with his hands deep in his pockets. He looked around the living room full of people. “What did I do now?”

“What do you know about Dr. Mark?” Justin asked, turning toward Hunter.

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“Just answer the question, “Ben said.

“Dr. Mark? He’s some freak doctor that deals speed. He’s a total skeezer.” He looked over at Justin. “I wouldn’t let him blow me with your dick, but your loser friend, Ed, hangs out with him.”

“Ted,” Justin corrected.

“Whatever.”

“You’ve seen them together, recently?”

“Yeah, he offered me a hundred fifty bucks to fuck me…” He winked at Brian. “…but I told him I was saving my self for you.”

Brian rolled his eyes, “Sorry, I’m taken.” Justin laughed. 

“Well, whenever you want to upgrade, you let me know.”

“Did, Ted or Mark say anything else?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, actually. They were talking about opening a sex club downtown in some abandoned building that Mark bought. He wanted Ted to hook him up with some of the guys from his porn sight. Is it true that Ted used to be a porn king? I thought he always looked like the accountant type.”

“Do you know where this abandoned building is?” Michael asked, ignoring Hunter’s questions.

“Sort of. I mean I could show you the general area. I only know street names. They didn’t give me an address or anything.”

“Let’s go,” Michael said. “Give me a minute to get dressed.”

“Wait a minute, Michael.” Ben said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Michael looked Ben straight in the eye. “I’ve never been more sure in my life,” he stated, and then went into the bedroom.

“Hunter, Ben, and Michael are going to come with me. You two stay here.” Brian said, sternly to Daphne and Justin.

“No way! It’s my car, so I go,” Daphne insisted.

“If she goes, then I go,” Justin stated.

“We can’t all fit your little car.” Brian said, flustered.

“I’ll stay,” Hunter said. “I don’t want to go, anyway.”

“You’re going,” Brian sneered. “You have no choice.”

“We’ll take Ma’s Ford Explorer. There’s enough room for everybody, and I have the keys.” Michael announced.

The room fell silent.

….

Blake pulled his car into an empty parking lot and then walked into a large a building that looked like an empty warehouse. Detective Cooper parked his car a block away and then apprehensively approached the building. He pulled his gun of its holster and edged toward the entrance. 

Suddenly, he felt something cold and hard bunt up against the side of his skull. “Good afternoon,” Detective,” Blake’s voice said.

The last thing he heard the thud from the butt of the gun hitting upside the head.

….

Everyone was quiet as Ben drove the Ford Explorer through the city streets, per Hunter’s directions, sitting up front. Justin rested his head on Brian’s chest, listening to the consistent thump of his heartbeat, as Brian rubbed small circles with his thumb at the base of Justin’s neck. He was feeling dizzy and achy. Daphne sat next to Justin and tapped her foot nervously. Michael stared out the window, with a blank expression on his face.

 

When they reached the warehouse, Ben parked the Explorer in front of the only other car in the driveway.

“This has to be it,” Hunter said. It’s the only building for miles.

Ben turned around and asked, “Well, what do we do now?”

“There’s only one thing we can do,” Michael said, “Let’s go confront this fucker.” He opened the door, and one by one they climbed out of the back seat. Ben and Hunter opened their doors and climbed out the front. The group huddled together and walked toward the entrance, Brian leading the way. 

When they got to the door, they paused. “Let’s do this one at a time,” Brian whispered and slowly turned the knob. It was unlocked. He opened the door, and walked in. 

The shot went off before anyone could react, and Brian fell to the floor. Justin screamed and tried to run to Brian, but Ben pulled him back to the side of the building and covered his mouth. Hunter crouched to the floor. “Hunter! Go with Daphne to the car, lock the doors and call the police!” he barked. 

Hunter and Daphne ran until they reached the car and slammed the door behind them. The locked all the doors, crept to the floor, away from any windows. Daphne searched for her phone and dialed 911.

Ben kept his body flat against the side of the building, holding on to Justin. Michael stood beside him. “Let me go,” Justin said, angrily.

“Only if you promise to follow my lead, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Brian is bleeding to death on the floor!” Justin sobbed.

“I caaaaan heaaar yoooou,” Ted sing-songed, cheerfully. “Why don’t you come in, and we all can have a little chat!” 

 

“Are you going to shoot us?” Michael asked.

“No,” Ted said, pleased with himself. “I already got my man.”

“Should we go in?” Ben asked. 

Michael shrugged. “Let’s go.”

Ben peeled himself off the side of the building and slowly opened the door. “I’m opening the door, Ted. Don’t shoot.”

Ted stood in the middle of the room standing over two bodies and waved them in with the gun. “Come in, I don’t bite.”

All three walked through the door. Justin went straight for Brian who was limp on the floor in a pool of blood. 

“Oh, don’t bother with him, Sunshine. He’s dead.” Blake said, nonchalantly, walking out of the shadows and stood over Brian’s lifeless body. Justin stood up, and then lunged for Blake, punching him straight in the nose. Ben and Michael ran for Justin and tried to pull him off. 

Another gunshot went off. Everyone jumped and froze.

“Now, now,” Ted, said, gleefully. “Where are your manners?”

“My manners? What the fuck is your problem, you sick fuck!” Justin screamed. 

“I don’t have a problem. Well, not anymore. He’s dead now,” Ted said, calmly.

Blake held his gun to Justin’s head. “You have a big fuckin’ mouth. Keep it shut, or you're gonna end up like your friend.”

Ben held up his hands. “Just calm down. Justin is just a little upset, but he’s not going to say another word.” He looked over at Justin with pleading eyes. “Right?”

“Right,” Justin seethed. Blake still kept the gun pointed at Justin’s head.

Michael walked towards Ted. “Michael, get back here. What the hell are you doing?” Ben yelled, but Michael kept walking until he was eye to eye with Ted.

“What the fuck are you doing, Teddy? Give me the gun.” Michael held out his hand. 

“I can’t do that,” Ted said, fondling the gun nervously. 

. “Why are you doing this, Ted?”

“He’s needs to suffer. He needs to know what it’s like to lose everything. Just like me.” Ted growled, and wiped at his face.

Michael held out his hand “He’s dead, now, Ted. It’s all over. Give me the gun.”

“It doesn’t matter. Dead or Alive. Everyone loves him more than me,” Ted spat out.

“That’s not true, Ted. I love you.”

“More than you love, Brian?”

“I’ve always loved you more.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

 

“I love you Michael.” 

“I love you too, Ted. Now, give me the gun.”

“I’m sorry Michael,” Ted, sobbed and pointed the gun at Michael’s head.

“Don’t do it,” Ben sobbed. “Please Ted, let him go.”

“Shut up!” Blake, yelled, pointing his gun at Ben. Justin pounced on Blake landing on top of him as he fell to the floor. Blake lost control of the gun and it skidded away from him.

Ted pulled the trigger.

Ben screamed, “NOOOOO!” 

Michael hit the ground.

 

…

 

“Drop your weapons! Everyone down the floor! This is the police!” 

 

…

A week later, Brian was let out of the hospital. He was shot in the gut, but the bullet missed any vital organs. Justin moved back into the loft. 

Michael didn’t get shot. Luckily, Ted had bad aim. He decided against a funeral, and instead had his Ma and Vic cremated. The house was put up for sale, and with the money, Michael took Ben on a trip to Tibet. 

Hunter is serving a reduced sentence of 6 months in Juvenile Hall for his part in Debbie’s murder. 

Detective Cooper had a concussion from the blow to the head, and Emmett came out unscathed. Not even rope burns. Cooper asked Emmett out, and then he got laid.

Daphne got a new roommate. 

Ted died from a gunshot wound to the head and Blake is now serving time. 

Dr. Mark was found dead in his office. The cause of death was a heroin overdose.

Nobody lived happily ever after, because that only happens in fairy tales.


End file.
